Between Burroughs
by ariviand
Summary: Sequel to "Call Me". A progression of the relationship between Alec and Magnus, and continuation of the original storyline from their POV; takes place a few days after the end of City of Glass.
1. Author's Note

_So, I haven't even finished "Call Me" yet, but it's coming to a close. Much as I don't want to send my baby off to school to play with the other boys and girls, I know it's time. Time to cut the apron strings. Time to let go. Time to move on._

I figure I've got a handful of chapters left to write on that story. Going to stick to my word, and conclude after the party from City of Glass. But I don't want any tears when I change that story from In Progress to Complete. Because then I'll shift my attention to a new project. This baby.

I was toying with ideas for a name, looking for something epic in the way of a fourth "book". I was going for the usual City of _____. But that seems to imply I'm going all out, and that I'm going to include all of the characters. Of course, that's not the case. In the style of "Call Me", I'm going to keep the focus on Alec and Magnus. So for the moment, we're going with "Between Burroughs," because technically, that's exactly what this story is going to be about – how Alec's and Magnus's relationship progresses beyond the stopping point of City of Glass_. How they balance their professional lives with their personal lives. How and where they meet up, between Manhattan and Brooklyn._

So, I'm hoping some of my loyal readers/reviewers will keep reading. I am open to any ideas or suggestions for this new story! It's just in its infancy. I don't even have an idea where this is going to go.

Thanks for sticking with me. My one-month anniversary with this site is coming up! Hope to have this story up and running by then.

Kisses and canoodles,  
ariviand

P.S.: This isn't just a tease. I'm currently writing Chapter One as you read this. And will post as soon as it's ready.


	2. Battle

Even though pain is a constant in the life of a shadowhunter, it never fades. It never loses its poignancy. A shadowhunter can train to overlook the pain, learn to focus on lessening the amount of pain they allow their conscious mind to register. But being oblivious to pain? There are only two real answers for that: paralysis and death.

Otherwise, pain is a constant. And it never fades.

Alec hissed beneath the hot spray of the water, his back tensing. He splayed his palms out against the tiled wall, pushing back on it as if that might somehow distract him from the burning, stinging, scorching claw marks deeply etched down his back. There was nothing but water yet touching his skin, and already, the pain was intense. Just that hot water traveling down the fresh wounds – it was agonizing. And he knew he needed to disinfect the scratch marks. The demon's blow had ripped open the leather of his gear, and when he rolled away to avoid another hit, he was sure to have ground into the dirt. There was no telling what he'd picked up, but there had to be debris in the clotting wounds, and even if it meant reopening them, it was necessary.

Alec squeezed his eyes closed, simply breathing as the water continued to fall on his back. The pain wasn't as bad at the moment. He was growing accustomed to the sting, and maybe the shower was helping. It certainly relaxed his muscles.

Muffled groans, and a sharp cry floated through the crack in the bathroom door. Alec cursed once when he had trouble reaching his lower back – and the act of reaching around was enough to make him want to throw his head against the wall. Fresh blood, diluted by the running water, slid down the drain at his feet.

He was trying to clean the wounds. It was as bad as he had imagined; his hand was shaking so much, he almost dropped the soap. He was biting his lip harshly, tasting copper and salt.

It was only a matter of time before he had to get back into the game, to speak. Before they all had to take a break from the brief lull without fighting demons. Less than a week to enjoy the peace in Idris, following the restoration of Alicante and the formation of the new council.

There had been two parties - the big celebration in the square on the second night, and another smaller, private party at the Lightwoods' home the next day. It was more of a family dinner, everyone still in remarkably good spirits, dressed in casual clothes and sharing an overabundance of food that left them incredibly full and lazing around the house late into the evening - until everyone disbanded to go their separate ways. To their separate houses, and their warm beds.

It was kind of like a vacation, if shadowhunters were allowed the luxury. Time away for good behavior. Time off for services rendered.

But now the Lightwoods had returned to the Institute, and the city that never sleeps, a place where demon towers weren't keeping the bad guys at bay. Which meant Alec, Jace, Isabelle, and all of the others had to get back to work. And the return hadn't come with a welcome home party.

It was rough, and even if he hadn't gotten hurt in the process, he would have been exhausted. In fact, it was the overwhelming weariness that he had experienced – he blamed it on recent travel and slacking in his work-out routine – that had been the cause of his getting hurt. Alec hadn't moved fast enough, reacted the way he should. He had hesitated, was in the act of drawing back on his new bow when the blow came out of nowhere, knocking him and his weapon to the ground.

So it was no one's fault but his own that he was miserable now.

Which is exactly why he hadn't picked up the phone to call Magnus on the spot. Because he didn't doubt the High Warlock would heal him in a second. He wouldn't even hear his objections. He'd insist on it; he'd want to do it. Even at the expense of draining his own energy.

Alec had fought that battle before, and always lost – unless it was something really minor, and then maybe Magnus would let it slide. But this – Magnus would be horrified if he saw his back.

Alec didn't want to see it, himself. He was glad there was only a small mirror in the bathroom, and nothing else to reflect back. It was bad enough feeling it; for some reason, seeing a wound made it even more real, and the experience got even worse. Like looking at a needle going through your arm.

Not that closing your eyes made it go away. But he was still trying really hard to make it happen.

Eventually the water started running cold. He turned off the taps, shivering and clenching his teeth together.

He reached for a towel and wrapped it low around his waist, unwilling to let it anywhere near his back.

His pajamas were waiting on the chair beside the bed, neatly folded t-shirt and pajama pants. Alec tried to dry off as much as possible and stepped into the bottoms, but couldn't bring himself to shrug into the cotton shirt.

For one night, he could sleep without a shirt. It's not like anyone was here to see. And he wasn't a glutton for punishment. Peeling the shirt off the freshly opened up scratches along his back was not his idea of a good time. Better to be a little cold and half-covered up than intentionally put himself through any more pain.

Gingerly, Alec climbed into bed, turning his head sideways on the pillow, lying down on his stomach, arms out at his sides at a slight angle, trying to relax the muscles down his back. Breathe in, breathe out. Shudder through the burn of the marks cut into his flesh.

The pain is a constant. It never fades.

Alec was having trouble sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, the pain just seemed to intensify. He knew there was no poison in the nails of this particular demon. Only the bite. It was just an ugly, hard-to-heal place. Healing never felt good, and it'd probably grow even more uncomfortable in the next day or so.

It had occurred to him as he suffered through the sting and throb that he should pick up his stele and try to draw an _iratze_. But where? On his hip? On his stomach? That still wouldn't be enough.

To have full effect, he'd have to draw it on his back and he wouldn't be able to tell an injured spot from an injured one, or correctly draw the rune from behind.

To manage it, he would need to get someone else's help. Isabelle or Jace. Or Clary.

And the thought of asking them for help, especially now – it wasn't an option. Besides, aside from sore muscles, the others hadn't come away injured. He was the only one. He was the big idiot of the night.

Obviously the time off hadn't left them any worse for wear. And flaunting that information, having to turn to them with the embarrassing evidence all down his back…well, it was too much. He'd rather suffer in silence than bare his bloody back to his family and ask them to patch up his careless mistake. It was a matter of pride. His back may be in tatters, but he still had that much.

Besides, if one more thing cut into the sensitive, broken skin of his back, he felt sure he would scream. Because he was holding it together by a string. He was quaking in bed, and biting his lip, and curling his fists.

And when the buzzing sensation tickled his hip, he almost groaned because he felt it all the way down his burning back.

He unclenched one fist and slid his hand across the blanket until he felt for his cell. Flipping it open, he answered the call after a moment.

"Hello?"

"Alec."

It was Magnus.

* * *

_Still taking suggestions. This is all I've got so far._

_Thanks for reviewing! I didn't even think anyone had read this yet!_


	3. Broken

"Yeah," Alec managed, eyes clenched shut. It wasn't the greeting Magnus had probably been hoping for – after the long day's separation. Their first phone call back in the city. But it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. Haven't gone to bed yet."

"That's what I thought. I was wondering if you'd like to come over?"

Of course, Alec should have seen this coming. And maybe if he hadn't gone out hunting – if he hadn't gotten hurt – he'd like nothing better than to spend the first night back with the High Warlock. Watching TV until they both grew tired. Heading into his colorful bedroom, probably kicking out the shifty cat in the process (after Alec made sure Magnus had remembered to feed him dinner), and curling up like they had done these last few nights.

It was a comforting routine. He slept so much better with someone else there – and not being woken up at an ungodly hour was an added bonus. Not that that wasn't still a possibility, if he stayed over at Magnus's loft – because he accepted calls any time, night or day.

On the other hand, he wasn't looking forward to much sleep here. If he had the fortune to fall asleep, Alec was sure it wouldn't be restful. He'd wake at the first jolt of pain – which he would feel if he moved even a little in his sleep.

_Then why are you being so stubborn? Because I was under the distinct impression that you were legally an adult now. You're still the oldest one, and you're acting like a child._

_Oh, yeah? Well, you're talking to yourself. So what do you know?_

Alec rolled his eyes at the internal monologue.

"Alec?" Magnus interrupted, sounding impatient.

"What?"

"I thought you'd fallen asleep on me. I was about to hang up and call back. Is your phone on vibrate or is the sound on?"

"Vibrate."

"Oh. Well, that would have been more difficult. So, how long?"

"What?" Alec repeated – realizing he sounded like an idiot. He couldn't really focus on anything outside of his burning back.

"How much longer do I have to wait? Are you coming now?"

"No. Magnus," Alec sighed, clenching his left fist. "I can't come over tonight."

"What?" Magnus replied, disbelieving.

"I'm sorry. I want to… I just can't."

"May I ask why?" The warlock's tone had dropped lower. Alec detected the beginnings of anger in the change of tone, the use of the formal address.

"I'm tired."

"Me too. Not a good excuse. What else do you have?"

"I'm sore…" The understatement of the century.

"Then I'll make it all better. I do have a roomy bath tub and magic fingers. What else?"

Another weary sigh, and a responding scorch down his spine.

"I can't do it tonight, Magnus. I'm sorry." Alec thought about hanging up – because that seemed like the only way he was going to make it out of the phone call while still saying no. And without hurting the warlock's feelings unnecessarily. Because he didn't want to have to lie, or say something to hurt him, just for the sake of making him let the issue go.

There was a long pause. Alec bit his lip, bracing himself for the rebuff. For the lashing out. Or maybe the guilt trip.

"You're staying in and playing nice, is that it?" Magnus pressed.

"What?"

"You don't want to skip out on the first night home to cuddle up with your warlock boyfriend. You're having some kind of shadowhunter sleepover? You and Jace? Throwing knives and cleaning house, just like old times?"

"Jace isn't even here." He'd gone out with Clary, because he was good at that. Flipping the switch after an intense hunt, transitioning smoothly from demon-hunter to teenage boyfriend – no problem.

But then, he didn't have crippling battle wounds.  
_  
And even if he did, he'd still throw on a fresh shirt and jeans and carry on like nothing's wrong_, he reminded, wincing. Alec envied him that.

"Then what is it, Alec?" Magnus asked, and now his voice sounded different. He sounded…almost hurt. And that just made Alec feel that much worse.

He wanted to roll over onto his back - which was always more comfortable to him, when he wasn't injured. Having to lay tense on his stomach, it was harder to breathe and he was too warm. And a list of other trivial complaints that wouldn't even be an issue if Alec just told Magnus what was wrong with him, if he told him what had happened - like he probably should have from the beginning, if he could have trusted him to listen, offer his sympathy, and let it go.

He still didn't want to be healed by the warlock. Because some things were meant to happen, and even pain served a purpose. It had its place, and in this case, it was a hard, very painful lesson learned. His training had lapsed, and Alec needed to focus. And he needed to be reminded of how excruciating (and embarrassing) the consequences had been, the next time he was out hunting. Then maybe he would move faster, he'd go with the adrenaline and react like his life - and not just some skin, depended on his quick reflexes. He had to be more careful.

Even if Magnus tsked the same message while passing his soothing hands over Alec's back, taking away the pain - it wouldn't carry the same weight. He couldn't always rely on the warlock to make it better. No one else had that luxury at their fingertips. And in Alec's view, they were better fighters for it. Having a healing warlock that was in love with you...well, it was practically a handicap.

He'd become too complacent, as well as lazy. Alec was lucky he'd only come away with claw marks.

Alec gave up on lying to Magnus. He wasn't very good at it, and it would spiral into more trouble later when the warlock found out. And he_ would_ find out. Alec couldn't put Magnus off indefinitely.

"Jace, Isabelle, and I went hunting earlier. We tracked a demon into the Park. I was clumsy, and I paid for it. But everything's fine."

"I'm sorry - I don't speak Shadowhunter code. What does that mean, exactly?" Magnus retorted. Alec could hear the frown in his voice.

"My gear was shredded down the back. It's painful, but I cleaned the wounds and it'll be OK in a few days."

"You weren't bitten?"

"It's just a scratch."

"Somehow I don't think it's as simple as that sounds," Magnus guessed, still unhappy. "How bad is it?"

"I'm sure the cuts look worse than they are. I don't think they're too deep. Just in an awkward place."

"Where?"

Alec closed his eyes and let his breath out through his nose. "All down my back."

"..."

"I'm sorry," Alec feebly offered, gently thumping his forehead against the pillow.

"And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"I was going to tell you in person. Maybe tomorrow." If the pain subsided a little and it was easier to be mobile.

"After spending the entire night lying in pain?" Magnus confirmed, and Alec nodded slightly after a wince. But Magnus couldn't see that - he only experienced the silence on the other end of the phone.

"Why would you do that, Alec? Why would you be so _stupid_?"

"Hey," Alec warned, heat rushing to his face. For once, it wasn't blushing at something Magnus had said. He was angry.

"What? You thought holding out on telling me was a brilliant idea? If _I _had a magical boyfriend that had the power to heal any any injury I happened to receive - and I knew he was _glad_ to do it, that it _relieved _him to know that he'd saved me from any pain or discomfort, I would show him the courtesy of a phone call whenever, say, a demon nearly flayed off my back. And he would come rushing over to save the day."

"And THAT is the difference between you and me!" Alec seethed, almost sitting up in his anger. He whimpered, then pulled the phone away from his mouth while he hissed and rode it out for a seconds, then went continued while he still had the nerve.

"I don't want to have to do this everytime I get knocked down! That's not how it works. We have an infirmary, and a stele, and we can treat our own injuries."

"Where's your stele?" Magnus interrupted.

"On the chair."

"I can draw the rune for you, if you prefer the hard way."

"No!"

"Why?"

He paused for a few seconds, realizing how stupid it would sound when he said it aloud. "I need to feel it."

Magnus scoffed. "This is ridiculous. I'm coming over."

"NO! I don't want-"

The other line beeped, his cell announcing that the call had ended.

- - - -

The knock came faster than he was expected. Alec was leaning heavily against the wall, stele in hand, his back burning worse than before, his eyes stinging with the effort of holding it together.

Yes, he was being stubborn and irrational. True, his justifications for the self-imposed torment were losing steam. If it was just for the experience - then surely he had experienced enough to regret his careless move, and to remember how much it hurt.

The warm tickle against the small of his back alerted him to the fact that the wounds had opened up again. Not surprising, since he hadn't been very careful getting up out of bed. And then when he struggled to the door, locking it, he felt the pressure of tight skin pulling, and the deep grooves objecting.

"Alec? I can hear you breathing."

Alec didn't respond, biting his lip.

Magnus sighed on the other side of the door. "This is so many kinds of childish. Just open the door. I'm guessing it's locked."

Alec waited, breathing in and out, feeling the burn. His heartbeat was racing - more at the thought of Magnus being right there, on the other side, than from the discomfort. And he was going to be so mad when he realized...

"Alec." His voice had changed, impatience showing. "Do you want me to blow the door down? I'm not in the mood - and I'm pretty sure your parents would have something to say about the damage."

Could he do that, with the rune in place? He wasn't sure.

Magnus gasped. "Mother ---" He cursed under his breath.

"Alec!" he hissed. "What have you done?"

Alec closed his eyes in guilt. He had used his stele to carve a rune into the wood of the door. It wasn't a locking rune. It was for protection, like the old circle of salt myth. Only this one was actually effective, and against all kinds of creature. Even high warlocks.

* * *

CullensMyLife: Hard at work on the next chapter, as well as a number of other projects. But I will try for speedy updates, as usual.

Queen-Cocaine: Poor Alec, indeed.

Some Things Don't Have To End: Glad you made it! Now the real party can start. Yes, we definitely need some conflict resolution here and some sweet lovings. While I can't promise the latter just yet, I am working on the conflict.

Vixie Vii: Well...I think I love you too! Thanks for coming.

jinnabun: You. Are. Awesome. Thank you! Soon enough for you?

dorome: Will do.

allIam: Sounds like something I would do. Can't apologize from keeping you from studying. Hope it didn't ruin your grade, though.

mhbabe58: Thank you ever so much! I'm glad you took the time to review.

Lallie Owesome: Hard at work on that.

Awesomesauce123: Thank you. You're too kind.

Why So Sirius: Mad love to you. Expect another research session very soon.

summerchic40: Thank you!

Gwinnya: Thank you! I might tackle the move-in topic...eventually. Maybe not with the same results as most stories. But I plan to touch on a number of relationship issues, yeah, to keep the story interesting.

Romantic-Faerie: Thank you! I'm glad you followed me over to the new story.

Magnus Spark: Yes, prepare yourself for a long list of B's. I've been told I can't neglect A - but I said you get an A everytime I post something new. Ariviand. There you go, 'nuff said.

kpop is luv: I'm glad I could hook up your next fix!

ronneygirl: Thank you, I'm trying to do this right.

Katara-alchemist: Thank you, thank you. You can cuddle with Alec - if you dare. I say that from Alec's perspective, as well as a potentially jealous warlock.

YazooValentine: I will take that into consideration. Another plot twist.


	4. Baby

Magnus's fingertips were sparking. First off, he hadn't done much more than reach for the doorknob – to confirm what he already knew, that it was locked. And then the brass piece had shocked the hell out of his hand! Not static charge or the jolt of cold against hot. It was magical energy, forcing his hand away from the door as he reached for it.

"Mother --- " Magnus cursed under his breath, shocked and angry. And that was the second reason his fingertips had turned electric. Defense mechanism. It was on, with this accursed door.

If Alec thought a protection rune was going to keep him out of the room, he was sorely mistaken! And greatly underestimating his skills. Should he be offended?

"Alec!" he growled, clenching his fists. "What have you done?" You stupid, stubborn, epically challenged shadowhunter!

There was no need for the theatrics. What would all this drama serve? Alec was in there, in pain – and Magnus wanted nothing more than to help him. He'd already heard Alec's reasons for refusing to be healed, and a very small part of him wanted to respect his desire to suck it up and make a statement. But he was a demon-hunter, not a damned monk. There was no point to self-flagellation – no need to suffer all night when the answer had come all the way from Brooklyn to make it better.

Didn't he have some right to persuade Alec to help himself? As his boyfriend, it's natural he should hate to see Alec hurting. Even if he wasn't a warlock that could heal – even if Alec didn't have a job rife with accidents, he should be able to tell Alec to be more careful. He still would have fawned and fussed over him, and urged him to go to the hospital and get it looked at. Even shared a cab with him to make sure he was seen ASAP, and pretend they were related so Magnus could go up with him.

But circumstances being what they were, why should he feel overbearing or pushy just because he had to fight Alec to accept treatment? His reaction was perfectly natural. It was Alec's behavior that was suspect. Was he doing a damned thing to help himself? Was he enjoying the prolonged suffering in some strange, masochistic sort of way?

Because that was the only way Magnus could rationalize it. That in some sick, twisted, shadowhunter way, Alec needed to suffer. Or at least he thought he did. And it was Magnus's job – his natural impulse, to put an end to that suffering. Willing S.O. or no.

Breaking through the door would be tricky. A small effort compared to cracking the spells that protected Valentine's ship, but it would still take some time and effort. And sap his energy. It would be so much easier if Alec would just _open the damned door_. Then he could preserve his strength, and channel everything he had into healing Alec's wounds.

"All right. Let's make a deal." Magnus was trying to think of a non-magical way to get inside, relying on psychology instead of using his power. He tried to keep his voice soft and conversational, trying to let Alec know that he wasn't angry. He just wanted to understand.

"You unlock this door, and I won't do anything you don't want me to do. I just want to see it for myself, OK?" Magnus sighed, stepping up as close to the door as he could chance without crossing the line with the protection spell. He was none too eager to be hit with that surge of unpleasant energy again.

"I want to make sure it's going to heal all right on its own. You can't judge for yourself, if you can't even see it. So let me do it," Magnus continued, his tone coaxing. Magnus waited, his right hand lifted, ready and waiting to turn to doorknob as soon as the lock clicked open.

But there was no sound, save Alec's nervous breathing on the other side. The pounding of his heart. And an occasional hiss.

As the silence dragged on for another minute, the anger resurfaced. Magnus glared at the dark panels of the door in resentment.

"Really? You're really going to stand there and make me break through this door, just because I want to see you?" _Because I'm worried about you, and I need to know you'll be all right_. "What part of that makes sense to you?"

Still no answer. It didn't sound like Alec had moved away from the door, or the nearby wall. So he was just standing there listening to Magnus, making no move to prevent him or send him away. Or even acknowledge that he was here in some way that Magnus could take some measure of pleasure in.

"Fine," Magnus concluded, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He didn't need to carry on a conversation with Alec's bedroom door.

If Alec wanted to do the mature thing and let him in, face the issue head-on instead of hiding scared inside, that was one thing. But why should Magnus go to all this trouble, when Alec didn't even want to be helped? He didn't want Magnus to heal him, or hold him afterward. Or join him in his surely uncomfortable, institutional bed.

"Call me after you're done with this pity party. I have better things to do than try to talk to you through a door."

And then, just because he was feeling nasty – he threw a series of blue sparks at the door, making it rattle. The protection spell held, at least under one round, but he'd made his point.

He could get in there if he good and wanted to. If he tried.

But he wasn't settling for forced entry. He was a fool for coming all this way, when Alec didn't even want him there.

Once again, the troubled Shadowhunter was going to have to work out his own issues, because Magnus was too old to play these childish games.

Huffing, he made a less dramatic exit than he would have liked, stalking past the blue Persian lounging in the hallway.

It reminded him that Chairman Meow was due his dinner.

While he may have failed to service his boyfriend, at least he could still be of some use to his feline companion. And his cat would be very appreciative and affectionate, and not give him any lip about it.

Why couldn't Alec take a note from his cat? Then he could look forward to a late night with a lanky, beautiful boy in his bed. Instead, he would have to content himself with curling up with the cat and his cell phone. And await Alec's call.


	5. Babysit

Clary stood in the doorway of the infirmary, biting her lip as Alec started screaming. It was the most chilling sound she could remember. She'd heard him whimper, and once, she saw him cry. But never scream.

It must take a lot of pain to bring him to that point. From what she'd seen of his back, it was that bad. She would have passed out a long time ago. She was cringing just watching Jace work over him. Her stomach twisted, which is why she stood a safe distance away.

The fact that Alec had been hurt last night – and didn't tell anyone, and had suffered through it all night amazed her. Well, maybe it didn't – if she was really thinking about the point of reference. Alec and Jace had a knack for getting hurt and hiding it. She would have made a B-line for the infirmary and begged for an _iratze_. Or a serious sedative. Something to take it away.

"I hope it hurts," Jace was saying, shaking his head in disapproval, his eyes skimming the deep, nasty gashes, where the skin was raised and very red and angry around the slashes now – obvious signs of infection.

"I don't need a pep talk from you," Alec growled, hands gripping the edge of the bed hard. He just managed to shoot Jace a watery glare.

"You should. Is Magnus mad at you for some reason?"

"Why?" Alec replied, turning his head away again.

"He could heal you."

"I didn't want him to."

"Does he know…?" Jace began, eyes looking shrewd.

"Yes, he does," Alec bit out. So if the plan was the give him a call and get him over here, it wasn't going to work.

"Fine. The let's fix this."

"No!"

"Earth to stupid, you're no good to anyone if your back is split wide open. And if the infection spreads, then you'll be sick and useless, and _then_ we'll have no choice but to call in reinforcements." He was thinking of Magnus. Or _Maryse._

Alec's back was still bubbling from the antiseptic Jace had poured over it. He seemed to shudder as it burned and cooled and was absorbed by the stinging wounds. Clary wanted to look away, but somehow she kept staring at Alec's pale back - which used to ripple with slender muscle, but now looked...well, like a destroyed mess. She couldn't imagine what kind of nasty scar that would leave, and fervently hoped Alec would change his mind before it got to that point.

Jace was rolling his eyes at something Alec had said.

"Did Magnus come over last nigt?"

Alec pinched his eyes shut. It looked like a reaction to pain, but it also got him out of having to answer.

"I thought I heard something," Clary admitted, then blushed when Jace lifted his head pointedly. Oops.

Alec had opened his eyes and was scrutinizing Jace's face. Clary cleared her throat. Awkward. "So it was him? I heard someone talking out in the hall."

"He was here," Alec replied coolly, but wouldn't say more.

"Did he see your back?"

"No, I put a protection rune on the door."

Jace laughed, giving Alec's shoulder a squeeze. Alec winced, but let his lip twitch in amusement. It was a little funny now, looking back on it.

"And that kept him out? Poor showing."

"He could have blasted the door off the hinges, if he wanted to," Alec pointed out wearily, closing his eyes again. "But he didn't. He wanted me to let him in and when I didn't, he got pissed and left."

"And you haven't talked to him since?" Clary asked, brow puckered. She felt kind of bad for Magnus, coming into town just to be shot down. He only wanted to help.

Why did male shadowhunters have to be so stubborn?

_And you aren't?_

Well, she wasn't _that_ bad. At least she didn't think so. She never argued about being healed. In fact, she was grateful to have a stele. And Alec, and Isabelle, and Jace always there to draw an _iratze_. And she had a close friend in Magnus Bane.

But Alec was his boyfriend. Unlimited pass to free healthcare. Why wasn't he banking on that? It's not like Magnus wasn't willing. Obviously he'd offered. Why didn't Alec understand it hurt to be shot down like that, when you only wanted to take away the pain in someone you love? Because when they were in pain, you experienced it too.

That's what it was like for her, whenever Jace got hurt. Although she hoped it'd be a little while before that happened again. So far, so good.

"No," Alec finally answered, snapping her out of it.

"No point," Jace agreed. Clary frowned at him, crossing her arms over her slight chest.

"I'm not saying you need to change your mind. Just call and tell him you're OK. He'd like to know. He has a _right_ to know."

"Let it go," Jace warned under his breath, shaking his head. Alec's jaw had tightened and one hand was fisted. Clary wondered if she'd struck a cord. So she pushed one more time. Gently.

"He loves you," she reminded, then glanced back up at Jace, daring him to say something sarcastic.

He didn't. Instead, he reached for a towel and blotted his hands, considering Alec's injuries. "We should probably flush them again in a couple hours. Stay put until then."

"I hate staying in bed," Alec grumbled.

"Too bad. Unless you want an _iratze_, you're stuck here. Clary can babysit you, and then Isabelle…when she wakes up."

"Sounds like everyone had an _awesome_ time last night," Alec retorted.

"Jealous?" Jace replied with a grin. "You had your chance, idiot. And you sent him packing," he reminded. He tossed the used towel and headed out of the infirmary, with a quick peck to Clary's cheek in passing.

"Do you want me to sit with you for a little while?" she offered, pulling up a chair.

"I want to get out of here."

"Alec…"

"Would you do me a favor?" he asked suddenly, blue eyes flicking up at her beneath his lashes. Clary blinked, not sure what to say. She worried this favor was something she shouldn't agree to, so she waited to hear him out.

"Can I borrow your cell?"


	6. Beckoning

"_You have reached the voicemail of Magnus Bane, Magnificent High Warlock of Brooklyn. Normal office hours begin after lunch. If this is an emergency, please redirect your call to the landline. Otherwise, leave a brief message at the tone and I'll get back to you when I'm conscious_." Beep.

"Hi. It's me," Alec began, trying to pretend Clary wasn't sitting right there. It limited what he felt comfortable saying to Magnus, even to his voicemail.

"I'm spread out in the Infirmary. Clary's 'babysitting' me and Jace really enjoyed scouring my back with some evil brew that burned like a—well, it hurt a lot," Alec amended, hoping Magnus would be receptive to the humor.

"Clary got on my case because I hadn't called you." He could see her turning red out of the corner of his eye, whether from anger or embarrassment. Good to know he wasn't the only one who couldn't hide it.

"She let me borrow her cell. But I don't want to talk over a message. Will you call me later, when you get up? Please? Or I'll to call you back." He snapped the phone shut after a second. That was enough to wake up to.

Maybe Magnus would call him back. He doubted it. He'd have to try again later, maybe from his own phone.

* * *

"Alec?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's Isabelle."

"K."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Your back—"

"Yeah," he managed, only half-awake. Clary had given him two small yellow pills - mundane medication, and they made him very sleepy. And his hands felt numb.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nope."

"Are you awake?"

"Sure."

"High?"

"Maybe."

"Jace?"

"Clary."

Isabelle chuckled. The chair scraped across the floor. Something hit the ground with a heavy smack. Alec's lips tingled.

"So, is it psychotropic?"

"Huh?"

"Seeing things?"

"Sleepy."

"Well, that's no fun."

"Hm."

"Maybe to you. Do you feel really relaxed?"

Maybe if she would stop talking, he might. "Izz?"

"What?"

"Hush."

She pinched his cheek. He grunted and winced, but was too lethargic to fight back. So he did the next best thing. He fell asleep.

* * *

"Alec."

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear his vision. His eyelids were dry, and he wanted to rub them. There was a dull ache in his back, but that was it.

"We're going out to dinner. Want us to pick you up something?" It was Clary. It was nice that she would think of him. Or maybe she was just letting him know no one was going to be around to babysit him for an hour or so, and warning him not to try anything funny.

At least things had changed since he'd had that heart-to-heart with Isabelle about her cooking. They ate our more. Or ordered in.

"No, thanks. Not hungry."

"You sure? You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm good."

"What about a milkshake or something?"

"I don't—"

"Give it up, Clary. Go have a good time."

"Oh! I didn't hear you come up," she said, and it sounded like she was hugging the warlock. Alec squeezed his eyes closed.

"Do _you _want anything?"

"Root beer float sounds fun, but don't order it until you're about to leave. The ice cream will melt."

"Sure!"

Then they were speaking in low tones together, and Alec struggled to hear. Magnus chuckled, and closed the door after her.

Alec waited, heartbeat punching hard against the stiff bed beneath him. It felt more like a slab than a mattress.

"You came," Alec finally croaked, face hot when he said it.

"You called," Magnus replied in a bland voice. The door shifted – he was probably leaning back against it, as far as he could get from Alec without moving away.

"I wasn't sure if you would."

"You knew I would."

"I hoped."

"You changed your mind?"

Alec sighed, trying to regain movement in his arms. "I remembered."

"What's that?"

"Why you're so much smarter than me," he tried to joke.

"Are you trying to butter me up?"

"I'm trying to apologize."

"Hold your breath. I forgave you eight hours ago."

"When you got my message?"

"When I woke up. I had a nightmare." The warlock's voice was soft and pinched.

"I'm sorry…"

"Close your eyes," Magnus breathed, and he was standing beside the bed now. Alec took in a sweet, warm breath that smelled strongly of the warlock and relaxed.

Alec felt heavy again, kind of like when he took the pills. And then he was floating, and the heat was spreading, and he slipped back into unsconsciousness.


	7. Begging

Warmth. Tingling, liquid, soothing warm. Alec couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…comfortable and at peace.

He floated. He rested without dreams or worries, hovering on the verge of waking up – but in no real rush. It felt too good to rush this.

Something soft brushed over his face, and then he felt even warmer. He sighed, curling up. A tickle across the side of his face, through his hair, and Alec shivered.

Then a moist heat pressed against his throat, and he arched back against it with a moan. Relaxed and uninhibited – just trying to say to the cause of the sensation 'that feels nice' and 'please continue.'

It was the scrape of something prickly against his shoulder that pulled him out of it. Alec opened his eyes and breathed in, realizing that Magnus was lifting his head and looking down at him now, brows raised.

"How do you feel?"

"Warm…"

"No more pain, though?"

"No, I don't think so," he replied, shifting a little bit. There were no shooting pains, no throbbing, no burning. Just little fading pinpricks, especially in his lower back. It felt like water was drying on his skin, that kind of subtle tickle.

"Mind if I join you?" Magnus asked. Alec glanced back up at the warlock. He was perched against the edge of the narrow bed, looking tired. And they weren't in the infirmary anymore. Magnus must have taken him back to the bedroom. And changed him into a fresh shirt, he noted, ducking his chin to inspect the clothes.

"I don't mind," Alec murmured distractedly. He slid to one side to accommodate Magnus's long frame. Magnus followed him down, metal bangles tinkling as they shifted from his wrist to his elbow.

"I'm missing a Top Chef marathon, just so you know."

"You don't even cook."

"You're right. I watch and envy. And then I bust into a bag of chips. You can't watch that show and not eat something, even if it's junk."

"So I saved you from overdosing on junk food."

"And I saved you," Magnus replied, though he had turned serious in two seconds, watching Alec steadily with his bright, dark-ringed eyes.

Alec rolled his shoulders, working out the ache. But it was only one of sore, unused muscles – not from the attack.

Sharp, glittery nails grabbed his chin, forcing him to look Magnus in the eye.

"Promise me you won't do this again."

Alec was silent, save a sharp intake of breath.

"Alec," Magnus continued, his voice stern. "I can't do this, if you're not going to be honest with me. It's not enough that you like kissing me in public, and your parents are tickled pink. If you can't pick up a phone and call me—"

"I did call you."

"As a lost resort. I should have been the _first _person you thought of. Instead, you shut me out, and you turned to your friends when the pain was too much to stomach."

"They were closer—"

"And I'm one second away from you at any time!" Magnus argued, sitting up. It actually looked like his face was warm. It was brighter than normal – beneath the layer of glitter and makeup.

"I'm not going to use you," Alec replied, brows drawn. That's exactly how he saw it – asking Magnus to heal his every wound, every scratch. Or having him portal between Brooklyn and Manhattan to be here at a snap – to use his favorite phrase.

"It's not 'using' if I'm offering," Magnus reasoned, hands up, arms lifted, wrists exposed. There were small tattoos there, on the inside of his wrists. Alec realized he hadn't really noticed them before.

"But it would still feel the same to me," Alec clarified, trying to stay calm about it. To act rationally – even if his initial reaction had been anything but rational.

"What do I have to do?" Magnus asked, planting his hands down against the bed and leaning closer to Alec.

"I don't—"

"How can I change your mind? How do I make you see this is something I _need_ to do? I can't _stand_ knowing you're in pain and I have the power to do something about it – and you won't let me."

Magnus's voice was rich and soft. Alec realized it was laced with pain and desperation. The warlock had already gone through hope and persuasion, anger, guilt. His other attempts had failed, and his naked pleas touched Alec.

Touched him, made him want to put his arms around Magnus, but it didn't change his mind.

Magnus must have realized this, watching Alec's face soften with sympathy - though his eyes were still wary.

"I'm too old for this," Magnus muttered again, the same words he'd spoken last night. Even though he was 300 – or possibly as old as 800 – Alec never gave that much thought. Maybe it was there in the way the warlock talked sometimes, but otherwise, it felt like he was with someone only a few years older than he was. He definitely didn't _look _a day over twenty.

Magnus was getting up, leaving the bed. He stooped and snatched up a large blanket. No, it was a sheet. Alec's sheets. And as Magnus crumpled the soiled cotton together into a ball, Alec saw the traces of dried blood. Alec's blood. Probably rubbed off last night when he'd moved and the claw-marks had opened up again.

Magnus tossed the careless wad at the nearby chair, and then headed for the door of the bedroom. He had a leather jacket folded over his arm. He was leaving.

"Don't go," Alec said, sounding incredibly selfish, he was sure. Magnus reached for the knob like he hadn't heard him, and the light from the hallway spilled across the bed.

Alec leapt up from the bed, moving to grab Magnus's arm and forestall him. His hand touched the warlock's forearm, and then jolted back in pain. He gasped.

"You're a big boy," Magnus retorted with sarcasm. "Suck it up."

Alec was used to pain – and by degrees, the warlock's burn wasn't as bad as being slashed by a demon, or bitten by one.

"I don't want to fight," Alec said, hand out and shoving the door closed again. Magnus turned on him with a look of contempt. He was shocked to see it on Magnus face, at least when he was looking at _him_.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not in the mood to put out tonight," Magnus replied. "Maybe if you ask Jace nicely—"

Now he was just being nasty and cruel. Alec punched the doorframe behind Magnus's shoulder, and the warlock actually started with surprise. Or maybe it was just the force of the door shaking behind him. Alec's knuckles came back scraped and throbbing.

"Don't," Alec said under his breath, chest expanding.

"Are you going to hit me?" Magnus asked through a tight mouth. He didn't look worried.

"No. I just took it out on the door."

They stared at each other for long, angry seconds, Alec flushed with color and struggling to breath. Magnus looked down from his nose at him, jaw clenched, eyes burning. His slitted pupils were small, even though it was dark in the room.


	8. Bluff

﻿﻿﻿﻿Alec continued to stare at Magnus – who continued to glare back at him.  
_  
What are we doing?_

He wasn't mad at Magnus. He didn't want to hurt him. Magnus had just healed his injuries, and Alec felt sure he must be tired. His body had to be telling him stay and relax, which is exactly what Alec wanted to do. He wanted his boyfriend to stay the night with him. Hell, it's not like everyone else wasn't doing it. He strongly suspected Jace and Clary had had a sleepover last night while he was trying to sleep through the pain.

And Isabelle had been gone all night. So if anything happened, he could always point fingers first. Not that that was usually his style. But it was a comfort to know.

"I can't make a dramatic exit when you're in my way," Magnus broke in, still looking haughty and difficult.

"Technically, you're the only one in the way," Alec replied, just for the sake of argument. He could feel some of the tension dissipating. It sounded like they were joking, but he couldn't be sure…

"You're an ass," Magnus ground out, although his voice didn't have that tight edge to it anymore.

"And you're being rash. You came all this way – you've been trying for two nights now to get into my bedroom, and now you're just going to walk?" Alec challenged, brows raised.

Magnus lifted his chin. "I accomplished what I wanted to. You're fine. You're back to normal functioning. And I have a hungry cat and prime time television waiting for me."

"They can wait," Alec replied, testing the waters – reaching out and placing his hand on Magnus's shoulder. The warlock tensed, but he didn't try to shove him off, so that was a good sign.

Magnus didn't reply, staring him down. His lips were pursed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, as if to express that he wasn't going to give in easily. Alec didn't expect anything less.

The simple black t-shirt Magnus wore rode up at the waist, revealing smooth caramel skin where his navel should be.

That gave him an idea. "I could make it worth your while," Alec said after a second, smiling tentatively.

"I told you – I'm closed for business," Magnus retorted, trying to look irritated – like he couldn't be bothered, but Alec didn't miss the way his eyes flickered with interest, glancing down and back up at Alec's face.

"Are you sure?" Alec asked. He took a deep breath – and when Magnus didn't respond, he lifted his arms over his head and removed the clean, cotton shirt, setting it aside.

Alec's skin prickled at the cold, but he lifted his eyes back to the warlock's, hair trying to fall in his face. "Don't go," he repeated, touching one of Magnus's folded forearms.

This time something clicked and Magnus relented, lowering his arms and moving forward, stepping up to the shirtless shadowhunter. Their feet almost touched, and Magnus bowed his head. His hair would have brushed Alec's face if it had been left loose. Instead, only his breath skimmed Alec's forehead and cheeks, and Alec lifted his chin, angling upward, waiting for it.

"Don't think it's going to be this easy next time," Magnus growled, and Alec opened his eyes again with a frown.

"Next time?"

"When we fight – don't think you can just throw off your clothes and I'll give in every time."

"Well…it can't hurt to try," Alec tried to joke, though his face flamed. It wasn't really his style of humor.

Magnus appreciated it, though. He laughed, long arms enfolding Alec, hugging him close. Their hips bumped, and Alec kissed the base of Magnus's throat, feeling the vibration of his laughter there. The sound broke off prematurely.

As Magnus's hand skimmed the bare skin of his back, he was surprised by how sensitive he was to the wandering fingertips. Although there was no residual pain, the skin felt like new scar tissue – every little touch made it tickle and tingle, and the warmth made him shiver.

Alec lifted his arms to twine them around his neck, but Magnus gave him pause, hand going up to stop him.

"Before I kiss you, I want something in return."

Alec moaned. Not again.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Yes."

"And you want to make me happy?"

"Yes…"

"Do you know what would make me very happy?"

Alec paused, looking up at Magnus warily. He didn't want to say anything that would result in him being obligated in some way, before he even knew what this favor was.

"It's not much," Magnus admitted.

"What is it?" Alec prodded.

"Banana split."

"What?" Alec asked, blinking.

"Ice cream sundae. Three scoops of ice cream, nuts, whipped cream, cherry, and a peeled banana."

"You want ice cream?" Alec repeated, giving him a funny look. It wasn't even remotely related to the requests he'd imagined.

"Yes! There's a little ice cream parlor couple blocks from my place. It looks like a throw-back to the fifties."

"But…didn't you ask Clary to get you something?" Alec reminded. He was really trying to find a loophole, to get out of leaving the Institute and going out to get _ice cream_. That wasn't part of the plan. In fact, the plan didn't involve anything or anyone outside of this room.

"She and Jace can share it. It's sweet, but ice cream beats a float any day."

Alec sighed, shoulders slumping. "I guess…if that's what you want, we'll go. Just let me get dressed." He was wearing his pajamas, after all – thanks to Magnus's care of him, earlier.

Alec supposed the warlock did deserve a thank you dessert. And an 'I'm sorry' sundae.

Magnus grinned, leaning in to press a quick, warm kiss to his cheek.

"That's all I get?" Alec grumbled playfully, still blushing.

"Just you wait," Magnus purred, flicking his fingernail beneath Alec's chin. The shadowhunter smiled a little and scrambled to find his fallen shirt, tugging it on over his head. There was a pair of jeans out, only slightly wrinkled, but clean. While he worked on the buttons, Magnus's fingers were carefully, tenderly trying to sort out his messy hair. There really wasn't much hope, but he let the warlock work. At least until he was done, and then he cleared his throat.

"Great. Let's catch a cab," Magnus suggested.

"That'll be a first…" Alec and Magnus, sitting side by side in the leather interior of a car, with watchful eyes glancing back through the rear view mirror at them.

He wondered if Magnus was thinking what he was thinking, because he smirked. Alec glanced away. Magnus chuckled, taking his hand.

"Come. I want to get there before closing." Then that long-fingered hand slid over his, fingers entwining, gently squeezing, and Magnus opened his door and led him out into the hall.


	9. Boyfriend

It was surreal.

For one thing, Magnus was oddly quiet, holding his hand, occasionally stroking with his thumb. Alec continued to glance over at his face in the shadowy interior of the cab. The glitter sparkled, and so did Magnus's teeth whenever he caught the shadowhunter staring, and smiled. Which is exactly why Alec tried to stop sneaking glances – because he really wasn't very sneaky about it.

Secondly, the cab. It wasn't Alec's preferred mode of travel. He usually walked or took the subway. He wondered, however, if that's how the warlock chose to take the commute – when he wasn't portalling from place to place. It just seemed an unnecessary expense. But then maybe he liked the privacy. Or avoiding the grime or the noise associated with mass transit.

Then there was the reason for this trip. Ice cream – which Alec realized (too late to use as a point of argument) that Magnus could have easily conjured. Or, you know, transported from the same place to the Institute in a second. Then he could have had his 'banana split' and Alec wouldn't have had to leave the comfort of his bedroom. It seemed like a win all round.

But physically going there seemed to make Magnus happy, so after the token grumbling, Alec went along with it. He was kind of hungry now. Ice cream, however, might not be enough to satisfy.

Alec was embarrassed when his stomach rumbled, so very loud inside the backseat of the car. Magnus chuckled and brought their linked hands to his mouth. He wasn't wearing the electric blue lipstick tonight. Just a nude, glossy tint. Alec's eyes followed what he was doing with interest, and Magnus winked back at him.

Damnit. Caught again.

As they passed over the Brooklyn bridge, Alec looked out the window at the water and the city lights. Black and gold and blue, some orange and red. And all of these colors mixed together and were reflected off the river, making it look like a muddy greenish-black body of water.

The sky overhead looked almost beige, because the city was so bright.

Alec was trying to count the bright blue balls of light outlining the bridge when he felt Magnus's lips on his wrist. He glanced over one shoulder. Magnus lifted his head, and where his warm, tingling mouth had been, there was a dark tattoo.

Alec tried to pull his hand back, but Magnus held fast, smiling a little. "It's temporary. I just liked the idea of marking you."

"What is it?" Alec inquired, trying to make out the shape with his arm outstretched.

"It's my name."

Alec blushed, lowering his eyes to his wrist again. It didn't look like it. He'd seen Magnus sign his name, and the tattoo wasn't anything like that. There weren't even words. It was a symbol.

"But—"

"I didn't say it was in English."

"Oh.."

Magnus smirked, kissing that spot before sliding his hand back down, entwining their fingers again.

- - -

When the cab pulled up to the sidewalk and stopped, engine still running, Alec came out of it and reached for his wallet, having to sit up to slide his hand inside his back pocket.

By the time he'd removed it, Magnus had already leaned over and paid the driver. Then he was shoving the door open and pulling Alec along with him. Alec recognized the smells of Brooklyn immediately – most of them unpleasant. Not that many parts of Manhattan were sweet. It was part of living in the city.

But as the cab driver pulled back out onto the street, Magnus stepped closer and he breathed in something that _was _sweet. The smell of Magnus's skin and hair, that inexplicable, possibly inhuman scent he gave off. Or maybe it was just part of his fastidious grooming ritual, inundating his entire body with some exotic perfume that he couldn't place. Alec's nose tickled and wrinkled, and he was ducking his chin, preparing to sneeze when Magnus grabbed his chin and angled his face up.

And the long-awaited kiss was finally happening, right there on the street, outside Magnus's favorite ice cream parlor. Alec made a sound of pleasure against the warlock's mouth, and Magnus hummed in response, sliding his hand inside Alec's jacket to splay against the heat at his side. Alec lifted his own hand and squeezed the back of Magnus's neck, kissing him back recklessly, impatiently, having waited two days – _two whole days_ for this.

It was so worth the wait.

"I'm hungry," Magnus pointed out, breaking from the kiss after a few seconds.

Alec opened his eyes, staring up at him in disbelief. He'd forgotten that he was starving, just wanted to go on kissing him until he was ready for it to end.

But Magnus wasn't having that. The quick kiss was all he was going to get for now. Magnus had his hand again, and pulled him along inside. The door opened and the cow bell clanged when it shut behind them. Alec shivered at the cold – he'd forgotten places like this were like refrigerators. Probably to keep the ice cream from melting. But it wasn't his idea of a fun time, freezing his ass off. Couldn't they just take it to go?

Again, Magnus was running the show, and that wasn't part of his agenda. They sat down in a crackling booth with bright red seats and a black and white checkered table top. Instead of sitting across from one another, Magnus urged him to scoot in and slid in right beside him, knees touching.

"They don't have just ice cream," Magnus pointed out, gesturing towards the menu in the corner, tucked behind the napkin dispenser. "Order whatever you want."

"Can I pay this time?" Alec asked, brows raised.

"You better!" Magnus teased, nudging with his knee, which actually came up closer to Alec's thigh when sitting back. His legs were so incredibly long. "And I'm not a cheap date."

"Noted," Alec replied, reaching for one of the laminated menus. Unlike Taki's, which had an interesting assortment of foods, this place had strictly _mundie_ written all over it. Burgers and hot dogs and fries and ice cream. Popular American comfort foods.

There was a huge picture of the infamous 'banana split' at the bottom of the back side of the menu. It looked like too much for even two people to finish. Still, Alec wanted real food. Dinner food. He had three meals to make up for, and his maturing metabolism could handle it – a big greasy burger with an ice cream chaser.

A waitress came around, wearing what looked like an old nurse's uniform with an apron tied around her waist. She also had on a curling, pink wig and bright red lipstick. No wonder Magnus loved this place.

She smiled at the warlock, and Alec was sure he saw recognition in her heavily made-up eyes.

"Hey, baby," she greeted. Magnus grinned, leaning in to accept her kiss. Alec stiffened at his side, only slightly pacified when he felt the pressure of Magnus's hand on the top of his leg.

"And who's this?" she asked, glancing beyond the warlock where Alec sat, probably looking hostile and unfriendly.

"Darlene, this is Alec. Alec." Magnus glanced back at him with a snicker. "This is Darlene. We see each other regularly most Friday nights."

Darlene pouted. "Not recently. I haven't seen you in over a month."

"Sorry, sugar. I've been very busy."

"I can see that," Darlene replied, but there was no bitterness in her tone. She grinned over at Alec, and he noted that there was a little gap between her two front teeth. That made him feel a little better.

"He's gorgeous," Darlene pointed out, eying Alec with interest. He went from irritable to uncomfortable in a second, face warming.

"I know," Magnus drawled, rubbing Alec's knee. Alec twitched, looking distractedly back down at the menu.

"So, what can I get you and your cute boyfriend?" Darlene asked.

"Well, I'll have my usual. With extra cherries this time, and two spoons."

Alec didn't realize they were waiting on him until Magnus nudged with his knee again. Alec started, glancing back up at the waitress. "Umm, just a cheeseburger."

"How do you want that cooked?"

"All the way."

"Well done?" Darlene clarified. Alec wasn't sure if she was complimenting his choice or what. He glanced over at Magnus, who chuckled.

"Yes, well-done," Magnus answered for him.

"And do you want fries or onion rings with that?"

"Fries, please."

"And polite too," Darlene crooned, setting down two sets of silverware wrapped in a white napkin.

"Thank you," Magnus chimed in, as if taking credit for Alec's good qualities.

"Do you want anything to drink, sweetheart?"

"Do you have Coke?"

"Of course."

"Then a coke, please."

"And for you, doll?"

"The same," Magnus replied, winding his arm around Alec's waist as Darlene hurried off to place their order.

"So…you come here a lot?"

"I like the food. And Darlene's good fun."

"Does she have any idea…?"

"That I'm gay? Isn't it obvious?" Magnus retorted. Alec tried not to blush – remembering how she'd figured out straight off that Alec was his boyfriend. Was _that_ obvious?

"I was going to say…" Alec lowered his voice to a whisper, "that you're a warlock."

"Oh, Gawd no. She probably thinks I'm a struggling artist or a gender-bending vocalist."

"She hasn't asked?"

"We don't have that kind of relationship. I make her laugh and she serves me ice cream. That's enough."

Alec shook his head and smiled a little. Only Magnus could get away with that – befriending someone without any questions. Just based on charm.

* * *

_Thank you, thank you, thank you for all those continuing to read. I'm sorry I've been slacking on my other stories. I keep getting ideas for this one, so they've been put on the back burner. I'll get there eventually. _

_It's strange, but I found it's easier to write when I listen to "Hometown Glory" by Adele on repeat. Maybe because I've heard it so many times, the words don't distract - and it's good mood music. The story definitely seems to get alot 'fluffier' when it's playing. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not._

_Next update I'll get back to replying to individual reviews. So if you want a reply, you know what you have to do;)_

_-ariviand  
_


	10. Bare

While waiting for the food to arrive, Alec considered: why, with a limitless choice of places to go - even food options, had Magnus chosen ice cream? And why did he order a 'banana split' clearly big enough for four people on an empty stomach?

Alec was trying to think like Magnus – wondering if there was some risqué inspiration behind playing with whipped cream and extra cherries. Or licking the spoon.

But when the food arrived, there was nothing playful about it. Or graceful. Alec took out the burger like a worthy opponent. The meat was completely devoured. The inessentials – bites of lettuce and tomato, and a ring of onion fell off the burger and were left behind on the plate. Oddly enough, there was alot of extra breading left over, which Alec also ignored because he had moved onto eating the fries – putting them to his mouth two and three at a time, licking the salt from his fingers.

How had he managed to skip three meals? Even if he had been sleeping most of the day.

When he glanced over, Alec realized with embarrassment that Magnus was watching him intently. He half-expected him to be picking at the sundae. Instead, the toppings were completely gone, and the warlock had worked his way up to the middle scoop of ice cream, which was partially melted.

"Why didn't you tell me you were starving?" Magnus chided, licking a bit of cream from the corner of his own lip. "We could have gone somewhere else."

"The burger was fine," Alec objected, although he did sneak a glance back at the (essentially) empty plate with longing.

"Here," Magnus prompted, and Alec looked back up to a pink spoon in his face, and a round glob of chocolate ice cream piled on top.

Alec hesitated a second, then leaned in to close his mouth around it, tasting the cold, rich flavor. When he bit down, he felt the crunch of nuts hidden inside.

"Good?" Magnus asked, smiling.

Alec nodded, licking his lip.

"More?" This time Magnus's voice seemed lower, huskier, and his eyes were trained on Alec's wet mouth.

Again, Alec nodded, accepting a bite of strawberry this time. He definitely preferred strawberry, closing his eyes while he swallowed.

The shiver came after the third bite. By the fifth bite, he had brain freeze, and forced his palm up against his forehead as if he could make it stop. Magnus chuckled.

"It'll go away in a second. It's just the cold."

"Ow," Alec complained, not used to the peculiar headache.

"Finish the last bite," Magnus urged, at least waiting a few seconds out of consideration for Alec's discomfort. It was a spoonful of strawberry. Hard to resist.

Braving the discomfort, Alec sucked the last of the ice cream from the spoon, then leaned back into the booth, stomach good and satisfied.

Darlene made her way back over, holding a small pad and smiling big at the both of them. "All finished, boys?

"Just what we needed," Magnus confirmed with a lazy smile, casually resting his arm across the top of the booth and Alec's shoulder.

"You're not going to wait another month before you come to see me now, are you?" Darlene asked slyly, speaking to Magnus while clearing away the dishes.

"Don't plan on it, honey. Maybe Alec and I can make a regular thing of it."

"Super!" She replied, clearly pleased. "I got a new wig. It reminded me of Cleopatra, but in pink."

"Really? I like this one. Frenchie, is it?"

"Got it in one!" she winked. She walked away for a minute, setting the dishes down for wash. Alec was puzzling over the pop culture reference when she returned with the bill.

"So next Friday - it's a date?" Darlene inquired, brows raised as she slid the slip of paper onto the edge of the table. Alec moved quickly to snatch it up before Magnus could, then removed his wallet for the second time, removing a twenty.

Magnus glanced over at Alec, who looked back in confusion. Oh. Was he asking for his permission or something? Alec glanced between the waitress and the warlock, offering a noncommittal half-shrug. He didn't have any plans that he knew of. But if his shadowhunter duties called, Magnus could always come alone. He doubted Darlene would mind.

"Count on it," Magnus replied, and then both bussed cheeks with kisses.

'"Bye, baby. See you soon, sugar," she added, addressing Alec.

- - -

"She doesn't sound like she's from Brooklyn." Or New York State, for that matter.

"I imagine she isn't, not originally. But can't say city-life didn't turn her into a beautiful butterfly."

"So you don't think she wore pink wigs and ostentatious makeup, back home?"

Magnus laughed. "I doubt it."

They were walking from the ice cream parlor to Magnus's place, moving at an unhurried pace – although their long legs still took the strides faster than the average person, even without meaning to.

"Is that why you put on makeup, and the glitter? Because the city rubbed off on you too?"

Magnus snickered, glancing down at Alec in a way that made him blush. "I don't think I can use the city as an excuse for that. It's just what I like at the moment. Tomorrow, it might be a scrubbed face and a short hair-cut." Although he seemed to cringe at the idea now. "Who knows?"

"How long has it been? This look?"

"How long have you been rocking this look?" Magnus turned it around and Alec smiled a little, shrugging.

"A while."

"So you weren't even a colorful child? No embarrassing jumpsuits or sailor outfits in your past?"

"You met my parents. They're not really big on clothes, either. So, no."

"I thought your mother looked fine in that blue suit. You could probably wear the color well too, if you tried."

"It never crossed my mind. Has your bare skin ever seen the light of day?" Alec retorted, and Magnus chuckled - taking it with humor, thankfully. He slid his arm around Alec's slim waist, bringing him closer as they walked - but still giving him room to move on his own.

"On a rare occasion, yes. I heard it's important to get a little exposure. Good for the pores."

"And your skin...? Is it naturally that color, or is it from tanning?"

"I'm very fortunate," Magnus answered vaguely, squeezing Alec's side. The shadowhunter recognized the neighboring buildings leading up to the warlock's flat. Unconsciously, he slowed down, and Magnus was forced to almost stop to keep pace with him.

"What is it?"

"I wasn't sure..." Alec began, looking uncomfortable.

"What?" Magnus persisted, turning in place to face Alec, brows raised.

"I didn't know if I was just walking you home, or....?"

"Uh uh," Magnus shook his head, hand tightening against Alec's side. "You're not getting away that easy."

Some of the warmth crept back into Alec's face, and Magnus smiled down at him. "Your friends won't miss you for one night. So, unless you don't _want_ to stay with me, I don't see any reason why not, do you?"

Alec pretended to consider for a second, then shook his head, glancing up into Magnus's eyes. Over time, they registered less as 'strange' and more beautiful.

"Then it's settled," Magnus purred, looking victorious. He smiled and circled Alec's right wrist, lifting it to his mouth. Again, Alec experienced the warm tingle, and realized Magnus was kissing the same spot as before. As Alec stared, the tattoo disappeared, and in its place, there was a pleasant burn. That incredible heat traveled up the length of his arm, seared across his shoulder, along his throat, and into his face, focusing on his cheeks and especially his mouth.

He burned. He trembled. Then - before he could really register what he as doing, Alec was reaching out for the warlock and dragging his mouth back down to meet his, kissing him with the same impatience he had experienced outside the ice cream parlor, daring Magnus to break it off. Daring him to deny him one more time.

He didn't. He was kissing Alec back without complaint, fingers tangling in the boy's hair, lightly pulling. Alec arched with the pressure, and Magnus lowered his head even more to compensate, latched onto his mouth.

Alec tried to convince himself that it had just been the wait - the frustration and the impatience of having gone two days without kissing him, without being able to touch him, after having been spoiled in Alicante. But it wasn't just that. It was an overwhelming need - something his body suddenly screamed, and he didn't seem to have the strength to resist it. His arms, his mouth, his every breath clung to Magnus. Clung and held.

It was stronger than his previous appetite, sharper than the pain he had prolonged.

Frankly, he was surprised by his own boldness. Somehow they were moving backward towards the front door, Magnus bumping into it and Alec was taking the initiative, hand out against the wood for a moment, framing the side of Magnus's face before lowering his hand to the doorknob, tugging on the warlock's lower lip when he had to break the kiss - long enough to force the door open and follow him inside. It didn't occur to him that Magnus must have unlocked it - probably with the flip of his wrist.

Laughing, they struggled and stumbled into the dark entryway, and started up the stairs. A few steps into it, and Magnus sat down before he had the chance to trip, drawing the enthusiastic shadowhunter along with him.

It was the second longest sequence of kisses Alec could remember. And still, it wasn't enough. He gasped when Magnus's mouth found his throat, nuzzling aside the collar of his jacket to follow the flushed skin down to the base where his neck sloped into his shoulder.

Bracketing Magnus's sides with his knees, Alec gripped the front of Magnus's jacket, tugging on the leather before lowering his head again.

An inch from contact, Magnus sighed his name. Alec opened his eyes suddenly, looking down at the warlock's relaxed features: his parted lips, his closed eyelids - dark and glimmering. He was obviously expectant. Anticipating another kiss. But Alec straightened up, wondering _what he was doing._ He was straddling Magnus right there, in the rickety stairwell leading up to his loft. Alec hadn't even paused to think about it, to be embarrassed. And maybe that was normal for most people, to go with with the flow and kiss whenever the urge came over them, but it wasn't like _him_ to virtually attack Magnus, even when he was compliant.

Sucking in a breath, he drew back, taking two steps down and leaning into the wall for a moment. Magnus opened his eyes in confusion, blinking in what turned to surprise and then concern.

"What is it?"

Alec tried to replay what had just happened in his mind. They were talking. He had brought up walking Magnus home. Magnus had insisted he stay, and Alec didn't argue the point. Then...

...Magnus had kissed his wrist, and then they were kissing like no tomorrow, and he couldn't remember thinking anything clearly until a few seconds ago when Magnus said his name aloud.

"What _was _that?" Alec asked, glad to have the wall for support. He felt kind of dizzy.

"Well, I usually call it making out."

Alec's tried not to be affected by that, and shook his head. "No, seriously. What just happened?"

"You grabbed me, and thrust your tongue--"

"Magnus!" Alec hissed, taking a step up. "I'm not kidding. That wasn't me."

"I'm sorry?"

"I didn't do that.."

"Oh?" Magnus didn't look amused. His eyes narrowed before continuing. "So you're saying an uncanny body double slipped in and made out with me, and tasted alot like strawberry ice cream, and I wasn't aware of the switch?"

"You said it was just a tattoo," Alec accused, convinced that must be the culprit - the catalyst for his reaction. Magnus had enchanted the mark or something - put a spell on the symbol so that, when kissed again, it would bring about this uncharacteristic, unwilling reaction in him.

Only is hadn't been altogether unwilling... but still. It wasn't all him!

"I said it was my name."

"But you didn't say it was magic!"

"Obviously I can't leave an ink mark on your skin with my tongue alone, so yes, some magic was involved. It was more of a glamor."

"But you--"

"Alec," Magnus interrupted, standing up now. He rose to his superior height, glancing down at the shadowhunter soberly. "I didn't trick you into kissing me like that. And if you need to convince yourself that I put a spell on you in order to get some, then you either have a very low opinion of me, or you don't trust yourself with me. Either way, I'm insulted," he said, lifting his chin marginally.

"Magnus--"

"No. Don't bother," Magnus replied stiffly, turning away. "I'm going to bed," he announced, continuing up the creaking stairs, his back very straight. Alec took a fortifying breath, and followed him, jogging up the last of the steps in order to reach the door before Magnus could shut it in his face.

* * *

Romantic-Faerie: Haha. I really am wearing that song out. And I don't want to end up sick of it, just because I rely on it so often to write. But I am starting to be convinced there are subliminal messages in the song... And thank you for the happy review!

missymarieb: Thank you so much! That makes me feel very accomplished.

StarrySuzumiya: I LOVE YOU TOO;) And your excitingly long review. I'm glad I could deter you from pulling out your eyeballs! That's no way to go. And yes, I enjoy body language sometimes more than dialogue. I figured couples who have been together enough to be able to talk without words got it made. I apologize for this manic chapter. It's not up to snuff, I know. Will do better next time!

Katara-alchemist: Gawd, me too. I want a cup of ice cream. Or maybe a hot fudge sundae. Or a latte shake. Mmmmm.

Taiyoukai89: I'm certainly trying to keep up with my track record.

CuteKittten: Oh, no, the dreaded F word again. And I'd say the rainbow clothes and definitely the glitter seals the deal.

Awesomesauce123: Thank you again. And I'm glad you caught the well-done, out of the loop moment.

Some Things Don't Have To End: Don't speak too soon! You tempt me over to the dark side again. Yes, I think Darlene - who may yet be a blond underneath the fake hair - is quite astute. And no, I don't want to resent the story either. Would sooner end it in progress than get ugly with it.

JaBoyYa: Glad to hear it, my friend!

MagnusSpark: Fluff, fluff. That always brings to mind someone in a bunny suit longing in a bubble bath or something. Yes, Magnus is a tease like that - just a taste and then an ice cream reprieve.

CullensMyLife: Yes, I'm sure he would enjoy showing off his bf around town.

kitsune of the twin blades: Thank you! I hope to.

Lallie Owesome: It was on repeat this morning. Just silence at the moment while I finish this.

Vixie Vii: Ahh! You caught it too. I'm glad;) And you know when I write the dialogue, I try to read it out loud and see if it sounds realistic. Like if I, say, would talk like that. And yes, yes, I would.

magic noctum: Don't knock the ice cream. Everyone needs ice cream.

AnimeLover237: My pleasure.

chisora: Thank you, and sorry about the wait.

Isabel Chase: Thank you! Love to know what you think of the more recent updates.

Londra B: Glad you could appreciate a little sour to go with the sweet. I thought it was necessary, especially after Call Me.


	11. Believe

Magnus walked into his flat, removing his leather jacket with a series of jerky movements before tossing it carelessly over the back of the couch. Alec studied the shape of his slender figure from where he stood in the doorway – the way his belt and the low waistline of his pants hugged his sharp hipbones, the tight fit of his black shirt, outlining his shoulder blades, the slope of his back, down to that hint of skin that was less than an inch of exposure when his arms weren't lifted.

But even that partial inch glittered, and Alec frowned at himself.

Why did he keep coming up with new ways to kick himself in the face? Why did he constantly have to make things difficult? Anybody in their right mind – anyone who didn't have something against sparkling, well-dressed, undeniably attractive warlocks, would realize it was sheer stupidity.

He didn't need a spell to make him want Magnus. He already did want him. Just looking at him like this – only being able to see half of him, and not his face, he wanted him.

Well, it's not that wanting Magnus was the issue at hand. It was acting on that want that he had questioned – that had shocked the hell out of him.

And he had tried to lay the blame on Magnus. And maybe in a way, the warlock was to blame, but not for the reasons Alec had thrown at him.

Alec couldn't help the desire that flared up, the need to act out of character and do things a month ago, he would have died considering. And now he was starting to do them without thinking, without letting his fear or his perpetual embarrassment get in the way.

And yeah, it scared him. He wasn't used to losing control. But there were a number of things he had trained to prepare himself for – a variety of attacks he had learned to face and counteract. But this wasn't one of them. No one had gone over the basics of 'making out' with your boyfriend; no one had prepared him for how overwhelming it would feel, or warned him that he wouldn't even be able to think rationally while he was kissing and clinging to another person. It was hard to even remember to breathe.

But Magnus was trying to show him what it was all about. He was trying to acquaint him with simple intimacies that Alec had never experienced, like having someone's arm around you in a booth, or walking side by side. Kissing on the side of the street, or in a stairwell.

And instead of being grateful, he had come at Magnus with accusations and disbelief. And Magnus didn't deserve that.

Swallowing, Alec tried to take a step inside room and paused. He couldn't move beyond the doorway. There were nothing there, nothing that he could see, and yet some invisible barrier held in place to prevent his coming any closer.

"Magnus…"

"You can go," Magnus replied, turning around to face him. Alec's brow wrinkled at the look of hurt in the warlock's eyes, which looked so soft and liquid. It was different than having to face an angry Magnus – which he expected.

"I don't want to go," Alec replied pathetically, bringing both feet up to the invisible barrier.

Magnus turned away again, hand going up to scratch at his scalp between the sculpted spikes. He was walking further away from him.

"Magnus, wait!" Alec called out, placing his palm up to the air, pushing against the enchanted block. He thought he even saw the air ripple with energy, although fortunately, it wasn't an electrified barrier. He didn't feel anything, just the pressure resisting his attempts to move forward.

"What do you want?" Magnus called over his shoulder. Chairman Meow was strolling into view, pausing a few feet from the warlock to stretch lazily, extending his front legs, claws coming out and scratching against the floor. Magnus bent to scratch the tiny cat, and the expanse of skin between his shirt and his dipping waistline broadened. Alec couldn't help but look, following the dividing line climbing up his back, the glitter sparkling against his lightly tanned skin.

"I'm sorry. That was really stupid."

"It was."

"I don't really think you used a spell to get me to kiss you. I did that."

"Anything else?"

Alec breathed in and out, looking down at his boots. "I got carried away, and I freaked out. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

"And if I don't accept your apology? Are you going to start taking off your clothes again?"

"Right here?"

Magnus glanced up at him, painted nails still running over the cat's back distractedly while Chairman Meow arched and kneaded the floor.

Was he serious? Did he want him to start undressing, or was he just mocking his previous attempts to use that as a ploy? Alec wasn't sure. But nudging with his boot, he realized the barrier was still in place. And Magnus was still watching him silently.

Self-conscious, Alec glanced over his shoulder, confirmed that no one was coming up the stairs. Then he rolled his shoulders, shrugging out of the jacket. It slid slowly down his arms and to the floor.

Alec folded his arms across his chest then, hands at his waist and pulling at the ends of his shirt. Then he ripped it over his head and off, shaking out his staticky hair before dropping the shirt as well.

Shyly, he looked up at Magnus, who was still watching him intently from across the room. He had stopped petting the cat, however, his hand resting on his bent knee.

So shirtless wasn't enough this time. Magnus had said it wouldn't be. But maybe if he bravely pushed on, Magnus would realize how serious he was about it. How far he was willing to go to show him that he really wanted this – that he wasn't going to let his fear and reservations get in the way again.

Biting his lower lip, he picked at the fly of his jeans, glancing down while he fumbled with the top button, having trouble with it. His hand was shaking.

A cool unsettling of air tickled his skin, making him shiver. Then he realized with a start that Magnus was right there, looming over him. The scent of him hit his nose, just before the warlock reached across the impassible space as if it had never been there, and touched his cheek.

Alec looked up hesitantly. Magnus shook his head.

"That's enough," he murmured. "I believe you," Magnus said, then lowered his head to kiss him.

It was different from the previous kisses that night. It wasn't as hurried, or as passionate. Their lips met, and Alec sighed in relief, moving gently against his mouth. Magnus's hand supported his cheek warmly, sliding back into his hair.

Alec stepped closer now that he could, and lifted his arms to embrace the warlock.

Then Magnus was guiding him forward, closer into the room. And the door to his flat was shutting behind them, locking with a click.


	12. Better

_(__Thank you, Mel. You keep me walking the straight and narrow. Well, not so straight, but definitely on the right path)_

Magnus lay back in bed, arms folded behind his head, the spikes flattening out against the pillows, his flexed toes several inches from the end of the exceptionally roomy mattress.

He listened to the sounds of Alec moving in the bathroom, the scrub of his meticulous tooth-brush scouring his teeth. For all he knew, the shadowhunter counted his brush strokes. Alec seemed like the type. Careful about certain grooming rituals like that – for medicinal purposes, of course. The purely aesthetic things like combing his hair or exfoliating his skin, well, they seemed to be easily overlooked. Luck alone seemed to have blessed the boy with very nice skin, in spite of the scarring.

And Magnus had certainly seen his share of the scars during the course of the evening. Twice, Alec had removed his shirt before him, and both times he had stood by and let him do it.

It was mildly amusing – not to mention, surprising the first time. The last time he could remember persuading Alec to remove his shirt, it was accompanied by fierce blushing and an arm across his chest.

Now Alec was doing it without prompting. And though he was obviously still embarrassed to a degree, he didn't make an effort to hide.

It was this very acquiescence Magnus wasn't so sure he liked. Nor was he big on encouraging Alec that it was perfectly all right, if he wanted to remove half his clothes every time they had a fight. Or take it even further, when the novelty wore off.

_And yet you stood by and let him do it a second time. How do you explain that?_

_I was shocked…_

_Were you, really? Shocked into immobility for upwards of thirty seconds?_

_I didn't know what to do._

_Who are you fooling? You could have stopped him at the jacket. You didn't want to stop him. You liked the view._

_YOU NEED TO SHUT YOUR FIGURATIVE MOUTH!_

_Why? Because the truth hurts, baby? Wake up and take a big whiff. You know what it smells like?_

_Bull shit. I know._

_So what are you going to do now? Sit him down and have a heart to heart? "Now, Alec, this is very important. I don't know what mommy and daddy do when they get mad – maybe it's acceptable in shadowhunter tradition to shed clothing during the course of a domestic dispute, but to the rest of the world, I'm pretty sure it's a felony if anyone blackmails you into stripping for forgiveness. And that's just what this would turn into, if I let you continue. So we have to nip this in the bud before someone gets hurt. Or arrested._

_"Because you know you're technically an adult now, but I'm still so many times your senior, and it's still very, very wrong to take advantage of you like this."_

Unfortunately, it was also very distracting.

Which was exactly why he had let it go on this long. Why he found himself in more trouble than he intended. The fact that Alec was just in the other room, humming while he brushed his teeth – perfectly content – only compounded the issue.

He had no idea what had almost happened. Or at the least, he didn't feel bad about it. It was Magnus's burden, and even if he didn't sit him down and talk to him like a simple child, they did need to talk about it. To address it before it happened again.

Magnus lifted his eyes as the door to the bathroom creaked open and he heard Alec's light footfalls heading back into bedroom. Stepping through the doorway, wearing a fresh shirt Magnus had loaned him, Alec smiled his trademark smile. Shy, but elated. Quiet beauty. That's exactly what it was.

He had the filter that Magnus lacked. That had a lot to do with why he found the shadowhunter so incredibly attractive. Not just his features and his athletic body, but the way he thought about every move, every word, like it was precious and important. The rash, impulse actions on the other hand – they were out of character.

Unfortunately, Magnus had an idea these things were proof of his influence on Alec, and these changes weren't entirely for the better.

As if sensing the darker shift in the warlock's mood, Alec's brow puckered and he tentatively approached the bed. "What is it?"

Magnus pat the mattress in invitation, wanting him to lie down with him. But he didn't smirk. He wasn't teasing. They needed to talk.

Alec attempted another smile, though it wobbled, and he pressed his knee into the mattress, climbing up. The pajama pants he wore – also Magnus's, the pinstripe pantlegs were several inches too long. Magnus could see he had compensated by rolling up the hems a few inches, rather than step on them. Very practical. Although he looked like a throw-back to the 50's. Of course, Alec wasn't thinking about making a fashion statement.

"Alec," Magnus began, sitting up properly. Alec drew his legs beneath him, looking up at him like he knew something was wrong. Like the sense most people have of walking into a sticky situation where they're probably going to be reprimanded, and there's no avoiding it.

But that wasn't right, because he really just wanted to get back at himself. It was his fault, not Alec's. As if to reassure the boy of this, Magnus extended his hand, touching Alec's knee with his fingertips. Alec was tense, as if he was trying very hard not to let himself move. Maybe he was nervous. He shouldn't be.

"No matter what I say, even if we get heated in the process of this conversation, you have to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"You won't take any clothes off."

Alec's lip twitched, like he thought Magnus was kidding. But the warlock's very-serious expression sobered him, and his brows drew together again. "OK. I promise."

"I don't like the person I become when I'm mad at you. I don't…even know that person."

"Magnus, you don't have to—"

"No, let me get this out. Please." Magnus lifted his hand for patience. Alec was quiet again, though frowning.

"It's easier for me to joke and tease. And there are many things that come natural to me when I'm around you, like my exceptionally good humor and the constant urge to touch you."

Alec's lip twitched briefly, as if agreeing. But he didn't interrupt.

"But when we argue, it's like I have no patience for you. I don't even want to be around you – and I hate that. I don't understand how you can love someone so completely, and you know I adore you, Alec – and yet when I'm mad at you, I throw up boundary spells to keep you at least ten feet away, in the hope that you'll just leave and let me cool off alone."

Alec was frowning again, trying to look back into Magnus's eyes, though he could tell the shadowhunter wanted to look away.

"And that's exactly what I was hoping for earlier, before you started stripping in my doorway." Alec blushed immediately at the reminder. "I wanted you to let it go, and walk away, and maybe in a few hours – or a few minutes, when I had time to think it thrugh and I started to feel wretched without you, I would have called.

"Instead, I made that sarcastic comment about you stripping to earn my forgiveness, and then you actually did…" Magnus grimaced, looking away himself now. The self-loathing resurfaced.

"And I hate myself for letting you do it. For even…secretly…enjoying the view. That's why I didn't stop you, because part of me jumps at any excuse to see you half-dressed. But that doesn't mean it's right, Alec. It's incredibly selfish. And very stupid. But more importantly, it's wrong."

He looked back at Alec sharply, and the shadowhunter was looking down at his hands, the heat in his face even worse than before. He looked wretched.

"You understand that, don't you?"

Alec didn't answer, but plucked at the loose material at his thigh.

"Alec?"

"I thought you wanted me to be brave."

Magnus blinked. Then he realized what he was saying. "I want you to feel more comfortable when we're together, yes. I don't want you to have to second-guess yourself, or be afraid to kiss me just because you want to.

"That's not the same thing, though."

"I wanted to show you that I could do it…" Alec tried again, flicking an uncertain glance back up at the warlock from beneath his lashes.

"And I appreciate that, but I don't want you to start removing clothes to soothe my anger. It's not fair to you, and it's not what I want. That sort of thing is appropriate in the heat of the moment. It's foreplay. It's not the proper way to apologize."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm sorry I didn't stop you at the jacket, and explain at the time."

Alec lifted his chin to look at him properly, and then he nodded a little, understanding. Magnus was relieved.

"Then I won't do it again. Not even in play," Alec promised. Magnus reached out and placed his palm against his leg again, gently rubbing.

"I'm glad we talked about it. I didn't want to let it rest like this and fester into something ugly."

Alec shook his head, smiling vaguely. "You wouldn't have let it go. Next time I tried to pull the same stunt, you would have snapped at me."

"I'd like to think so."

"Even though I'm so distracting without a shirt?" Alec boldly replied. Magnus chuckled, lifting his hand to the shadowhunter's warm cheek.

"You are, at that. It really shouldn't be fair."

"I like it," Alec said softly, still smiling softly. "It kind of levels the playing field."

"How so?"

"You're already so distracting. Just watching you kneel down and pet Chairman Meow…" he trailed off, getting that look. Like he would be blushing if it were possible to blush any harder than he already was.

"You were watching?"

"I couldn't help it," Alec admitted. "Your shirt slid up when you leaned over him, and I was staring at the glitter down your back."

Magnus grinned, stroking Alec's cheek with his thumb. "I like that."

Alec looked like he wanted to say something, but he was silent. Magnus tilted his head to one side. "What is it?"

"It's silly."

"Say it anyway."

"I was just wondering…since we just had this conversation, if you were going to sleep with a shirt on. Just on principle – even though it makes you uncomfortable."

"But you're comfortable with it, aren't you?"

"I'm fine."

"And that's different entirely. It's a matter of comfort while sleeping. I'm not trying to buy forgiveness with my naked chest. And since that is the case, you're more than welcome to get comfy and take your shirt off too."

"That's…OK. I think I'll pass tonight."

"Suit yourself," Magnus winked, more comfortable now they were back on familiar ground. He got up out of bed in order to remove his belt, and change into a pair of pajama pants. Alec had politely turned his head away, picking at the corner of one of the pillow cases.

Magnus returned to bed in a pair of pajama pants, wearing nothing but the glitter from the waist up. He pulled back the yellow comforter and slid beneath it. Alec followed suit, lying down stiffly on his back, arms ramrod straight at his sides.

This wouldn't do. Magnus hadn't intended to forge a distance between them, just because he was interested in protecting Alec's virtue, at least a little longer.

Magnus scooted closer, rubbing Alec's arm. Alec turned onto his side, and Magnus moved his arm into place, hugging him closer. Alec's lips pursed against Magnus's shoulder, and the warlock kissed Alec's forehead.

"I love you. I don't think I got a chance to remind you yet today."

"You're right," Alec murmured, eyes closed. "But you've still got time to make up for it."

Magnus chuckled. "I love you," he breathed against his hair. "I love you," he said against his cheek, before kissing it.

"I love you," he finally spoke against his mouth. Alec sighed in response against his lips, leaning in for the kiss. It was sweet, the innocent expectation.

Magnus paused, wanting to hear the words repeated back to him.

As if he knew the key to getting what he wanted, Alec breathed the words. "I love you."

Magnus rewarded him with a kiss.


	13. Burning

Even without being able to see a sliver of light through the heavy curtains, Alec opened his eyes and instinctively knew it was morning. Well, on the cusp of dawn anyway. He was used to an early wake-up.

Magnus wasn't. He knew that well enough by now, and so he wasn't surprised to peek over and find the warlock still resting peacefully, one arm thrown over his face as if to say 'please let me sleep'. But he could make out the glitter on his face, the dark shadow of his hair against the pillow. Alec smiled, admiring the abstract shape of him in the darkness.

As quiet as he could manage, Alec tried to slide beneath the tangle of covers, holding his breath as his clothing scraped against the bedclothes, making a soft rustling sound.

Magnus hadn't moved. His deep, even breathing reassured the shadowhunter that he was still fast asleep.

Exhaling carefully, Alec lowered one leg to the ground, and climbed out of the bed. The mattress rose slightly without his weight. His eyes stayed trained on his sleeping boyfriend as he blindly retreated in the direction of the door. Fortunately there was nothing significant on this side of the room to bump into. Alec walked, unimpeded, until he felt the closed door behind his back.

Quietly, he sought out and twisted the doorknob. No movement or new sound from the bed. Alec slid out into the cooler hallway and across to the bathroom, flicking on the light only after the door was safely closed.

His hair was a mess. Alec smiled lazily back at his reflection, unconcerned. He didn't expect perfection after a decent night's sleep. He ran a casual hand back through his hair, drawing it back from his forehead at least.

Two minutes later he reemerged from the bathroom, running the back of his hand over his mouth. His breath was minty fresh. Alec passed his tongue along his teeth, marveling over the way Magnus's toothpaste made his gums tingle. It wasn't enchanted or something, was it?

It felt awkward to stalk around Magnus's place while he was sleeping. Not that he would mind – Alec couldn't convince himself of that. It was just weird.

He should change back into his own clothes. That's right, they were still on the floor, waiting outside Magnus's front door.

Alec flushed uncomfortably at the memory. It wasn't his crowning moment. Well, at the time he thought it was, but after they talked, he realized that it was, in fact, inappropriate. And it bothered Magnus. And so he vowed not to do it again. He didn't want to do anything that would intentionally hurt Magnus. It'd only seemed like a good idea at the time, because he thought Magnus liked it. That he enjoyed it.

Then he realized it was wrong. Uncomfortable lesson learned. He would keep his clothes on, from now on. Unlatching the door, Alec quickly reached through a crack in the door – wide enough to make room for his hand, snatching up the rumpled shirt and jacket and pulling them inside.

He locked back up after himself, then returned to the bathroom where he had left the balance of his own things from the night before.

The only thing he wasn't sure about was what to do with the worn pajamas. Magnus didn't appear to have a laundry basket, or a closet designated for dirty clothes. Just to put them out of the way, Alec folded the shirt and PJ pants for now over the towel rack, shutting off the bathroom light again and closing the door.

Cleaned up and clothed, Alec allowed himself to relax. Next step: hot coffee in his system.

Unfortunately, finding the right elements in the warlock's dishevel of a kitchen proved more of a challenge than he was prepared for.

Try finding the coffee machine itself. No easy feat. Surely he had one! Alec couldn't imagine he conjured every cup of coffee he consumed. Did he? Was he really up to expending the magic with one foot barely out of bed? No, surely he had a coffee maker. Every coffee-drinking New Yorker must have their own personal Mr. Coffee. Or something more upscale.

He was banking on upscale, with Magnus. One of those strange, shining silver machines that looked like an old-fashioned tea service. Or maybe the kind that completed every step for you. Or a machine that prepared one cup at a time.

Frustrated, Alec scoured half the cabinets in the kitchen looking for a respectable coffee machine when he realized what an awful mess Magnus had left in the sink. Repulsive. He'd only been back for two days! And yet the warlock had managed to stack both sides of the sink high with dirty dishes, cups, bowls, plates, and glasses. A number of the solid cups were actually mugs. He would continue his hunt for the coffee machine in a minute – after he conquered these dishes.

Alec washed them by hand, scrubbing the old grease, the sticky sludge that had been left over, dried on, stuck to edges. Wrinkling his nose, and trying to breathe as little as possible, Alec finished the lot and neatly arranged them on the drying rack. Then he picked up where he had left off, opening cabinets – still quiet, so as not to disturb the sleeping warlock – and then he knelt down to open the balance of the cabinets and drawers.

Oddly enough, beneath the sink – where household chemicals are traditionally kept, Alec found what he was looking for. It looked like it had never been cleaned. Or recently used. Shaking his head, but resigned, Alec squirt a generous amount of dish soap inside the coffee pot and all over the outside of the machine; the lid, the hot plate, the sides – until he could actually make out the white surface again.

Now it ought to be safe in the presence of water and coffee grounds. Safe for human consumption.

Alec filled the pot with warm water, and poured the entirety into the back of the coffee machine, before plugging it in. He was relieved to hear it hiss and crackle, starting the slow-dripping process, brewing the coffee.

Wait. He'd forgotten a vital step! The machine was about to make hot water. He hadn't loaded any coffee grounds. He relaunched his search, this time looking for packets of coffee, bags of whole beans, a can of Folgers, something familiar he could work with.

"What are you looking for?"

Turning around, Alec gripped the spoon he'd been moving out of the way, in lieu of a weapon. It was just Magnus. A very sleepy-looking, shining, shirtless Magnus, rubbing one naked eye and regarding him with curiosity.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet."

" 's OK. I didn't hear anything until I came out."

"Then…what are you doing up?"

"Chairman Meow was scratching at the door. I think he heard the commotion in the kitchen, and thought he was going to get lucky."

"Sorry," Alec apologized, nibbling his lower lip. This wasn't how he'd planned it. He had hoped to tank up on at least a cup or two of the black brew, then maybe – if he had the heart to do it, creep back into the bedroom and offer Magnus a cup. Heavily inundated with sugar and cream, of course, so maybe it wouldn't be as distasteful to Magnus, who was accustomed to drinking coffee only if it had unnecessary froth, whipped cream, and names Alec couldn't pronounce.

"So…" Magnus blinked, moving closer. "Making coffee?"

"Trying," Alec admitted, setting the spoon down. "I couldn't find your coffee."

"Freezer."

"What?"

"On top of the fridge."

"Why do you keep your coffee there?"

"It's fine, to freeze it. And it's the one place Chairman Meow can't reach. Well, the refrigerator as a whole freaks him out."

"Ah…" Alec replied distractedly, moving over to the freezer and opening the door. Sure enough, an orange bag with "Jamaican roast" written on the front had been shoved in the middle of the shelf, folded over on itself.

"That's so cute."

"What?" Alec asked, not sure what to do with the frozen coffee grounds.

"You making coffee for us in my kitchen. I love it."

Alec smiled a little, glancing briefly up at Magnus while opening the stiff, crinkling bag.

"Darling?"

"…yes?" Alec lifted his head. Magnus was leaning in, his loose hair falling into his eyes. Flushed from sleep, minus the cosmetics, he really looked….well, beautiful. Extraordinary and effortless. Alec was staring. But Magnus was looking beyond him, at the coffee machine.

"I think it's burning."


	14. Bye

"Stupid machine," Magnus grumbled, waving at the smoke in the air with mild irritation.

"I'm sorry," Alec apologized for the third time. He wondered why the smoke detector hadn't gone off. All evidence pointed towards there having been a fire in the kitchen – except for the cause itself. Magnus's way of dealing with it was to make the entire coffee pot disappear. Alec hadn't asked where it went.

Chairman Meow was a small white speck appearing through the gray smoke, meowing anxiously and swishing his tail.

"It's fine," Magnus replied, turning his wrist. The smallish window in the kitchen opened up. Then an oscillating fan appeared behind them, blowing full force towards that window. Chairman Meow went running in the opposite direction.

Magnus took his hand and pulled him out of the kitchen. Alec was trying to get the windblown hair out of his eyes, pretty sure he reeked of smoke. But there were worse things. Like sewer, and demon stink, and—

Mm, warlock. Alec breathed in deep, catching a strong whiff of Magnus's hair as he followed Magnus back to the bedroom. The door had been closed, and it didn't smell like smoke quite yet. Magnus slid inside with the shadowhunter in tow, and closed it back quickly behind them, a pink towel appearing along the crack at the bottom of the door.

Alec snickered. That would only delay the inevitable.

He gasped as the curtains flew back, the bedroom erupted in light. Then the windows were open, a breeze from outside rushing in. Being Brooklyn, he couldn't exactly call it fresh air.

Magnus looked like he was crawling back into bed, pulling the ends of his hair back in a twist. Only after he had drawn the comforter up, did he turn to see if Alec was coming.

Alec looked back at him strangely, gesturing to his clothes. "I can't go back to sleep."

"Why not? I'll shut the windows in a minute. And draw the curtains. Nice and cosy."

"It's not that. I'm up. I'm dressed."

"But you haven't had your morning coffee yet, so it's not a complete ruin," Magnus replied, laying back against the pillows with a smirk. "Change back into your PJs."

"The sun's coming up," Alec objected, pointing towards the window.

"Do you have to get back to your lair?" Magnus teased. Was that some kind of vampire joke? Alec wrinkled his nose.

"I should be getting back soon."

"Come here," Magnus purred, turning onto his side. He rubbed the place Alec had vacated with his palm.

"No," Alec replied, resolute. "I'm going to get some coffee and I'll bring you back some, and then I really should go."

"Spoil sport," he sighed, flinging his arm across the empty side of the bed, nuzzling the pillow that smelled most like Alec. The shadowhunter blushed, watching the warlock shamelessly nuzzle the bed.

"You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do," Alec replied slowly, firmly.

"I meant for the coffee. I can manage." Magnus wiggled his fingers against the sheet.

"Oh. Well, I don't mind."

"I do," the warlock objected. "Please, just sit with me for a few more minutes, and I'll snap in some coffee, and then I'll let you go."

"No tricks?"

"Promise," Magnus breathed, lip twitching. Alec hesitated, wondering if there was some form of unbreakable oath he could make the warlock swear by. Sighing, he moved over to the edge of the bed and sat down on the left side.

But that wasn't enough. Magnus encircled his wrist and tugged him closer, not content until he was laying down full length against the mattress. Alec felt strange, being fully clothed in bed, boots included, but Magnus didn't say anything about the boots, so he tried not to draw attention to them, pulling his knees up a little.

"That's better," Magnus murmured, fingers running back through Alec's hair. Alec closed his eyes, enjoying the shivery feeling Magnus induced when he pushed his nails gently through Alec's scalp.

"Do you like that?"

Alec nodded a little, resting his head back. He could hear the bedclothes rustle, could feel the heat of Magnus shifting closer. Alec kept his eyes closed, twitching when he felt those soft lips on his cheek, pressing a soft kiss and moving down along his jaw. Another soft kiss, and another, and Magnus continued beneath his chin and along his throat.

Alec shivered, reaching up to grip his shoulder.

Magnus chuckled, nuzzling aside the collar of Alec's jacket. "Will you take it off?"

Alec shook his head. He wasn't staying. They'd agreed.

"Just for a minute?" Magnus pressed, punctuating his request with another kiss. Sighing, Alec slid his arms out of the jacket, laying on top of it.

Magnus slid his long fingers back through Alec's hair, realizing by now that was a weak spot for him. Alec closed his eyes again and let the warlock nuzzle his clothed shoulder, kissing down his arm.

When those soft, scattered kisses shifted to kiss chest, Alec knotted his fist around Magnus's hair, loosening it from the knot it had been in. He almost asked him to stop, tensing up. But the warlock's palm slid along his throat, warm and comforting, and his fingers played with ends of Alec's hair. And then Magnus whispered three words which worked on the shadowhunter just as well as any spell.

"I love you," he breathed against the white cotton.

- - -

Alec opened his eyes with a start. He blinked in the darkness for a second, not sure what time it was or when he'd fallen asleep.

Magnus was breathing evenly, his head resting against the neighboring pillow. He was smiling in his sleep. Alec swallowed, remembering the warm kisses. Even through his clothes, he'd never experienced anything like it. It was so much stronger than just kissing him on the mouth. Maybe because his body wasn't equipped yet for the sensation, whereas his mouth had more than enough experience in kissing Magnus.

There was a strange, rattling sensation beneath his back. Sitting up quietly, he patted down his jacket, realizing it was his cell. Probably the reason he woke up in the first place.

9:15! Damnit.

And Isabelle was calling him. Well, he couldn't take the call right here, right now. But he definitely had to go. He should have gone three hours ago, like he meant to. And Magnus had promised!

He shot the sleeping warlock a glare. Not that he was entirely to blame. But if he hadn't talked him into "sitting with him for a few minutes" - which actually turned into what the warlock would call canoodling – then Alec would have been back at the Institute early. Maybe before anyone else was up and had a chance to miss him. Or ask where he'd been.

Cursing beneath his breath, he climbed down from the mattress, tugging his jacket along with him. Magnus didn't stir. This time there was no longing glance back to make him out in the darkness. Alec kicked the pink towel out of the way, vowing there would be words about it later.

This was his job! Not to mention, his reputation. He'd already put a lot on the line to be with Magnus; even making their relationship public, he'd taken great risks. He had to go when he was needed, and Alec knew better than to assume days off would come just because you wanted them to, which is exactly why he had to get back early.

So far, his family and friends had been surprisingly tolerant and accepting of his seeing a warlock. But if that relationship started to infringe upon his duties as a shadowhunter… Alec didn't even want to think about it.

He would just have to make it clearer to Magnus. While the warlock might not understand the need to get out of bed before noon, it was very important that Alec be back at the Institute early whenever he spent the night. Maybe once Magnus understood the consequences, he wouldn't try to trick Alec into staying again.

Grabbing his stele and his blade, Alec was out the door and jogging down the creaking steps, leaving the fading smell of smoke and the constant whir of the fan in his wake.


	15. Belt

The elevator clanged to a stop. Alec raked a hand back through his hopeless hair before stepping off, boots making a dull, muted sound against the carpet.

Isabelle was there, pacing with her cell phone, gnawing her lip. He almost felt guilty, not having returned her call along the way. He just figured it'd be faster to travel, then talk. She didn't leave a message, after all.

She was in full gear. He could smell the newly applied Marks before he could see them, the dark runes glowing against the pale skin of her throat and palms.

Isabelle spun around, her ponytail slashing through the air like her weapon of choice. Wouldn't that be interesting? If she could find a way to use her hair as a weapon. His sister had a gift for turning many ordinary, unsuspecting items like underwear and jewelry into charms or articles of protection. Or concealed weapons.

"What's going on?" Alec asked, already heading for his room – assuming he needed to change and get ready. Assuming they were just waiting on him to head out.

"Where WERE you?" she demanded, hard at his heels.

"Out. Are you going to tell me what the call is about, so I can—"

"Were you with Magnus?" Isabelle interrupted, not accusing, but still being pushy for a real answer.

"Yes, I was – not that it's any of your business."

"You're my brother," she stubbornly remarked, following him through the door to his bedroom.

"I don't ask you where you spend your nights," he snapped back, shrugging out of his jacket. "And no, I don't want to know. I'm just making a point."

Isabelle folded her arms over her chest, leaning into the door frame while he pulled the t-shirt up and over his head. Then paused.

"Umm…Izzy?"

"What?" she got out, still angry.

"A little privacy?" Speaking of the sibling thing. He wasn't keen on undressing in front of his sister. She said something ugly under her breath and slammed the door shut.

"Hurry up," she warned, before clicking back down the hall.

---

"I hate Queens."

"Just like you hate Brooklyn?" Isabelle retorted.

"Shut up." It's not that the neighboring burrough had grown on him or anything in the last few weeks – just that he'd found one reason to go there with increasing regularity.

In truth, he never had any reason to go to Queens. They typically didn't travel by plane, and he wasn't a fan of baseball. Maybe it would be one thing, if they were heading to one of the more residential areas in Queens. Instead, Isabelle said they were going to Astoria.

In fact, that's all he'd managed to get out of her about the assignment – the location. He'd asked immediately what was going on, where Jace and Clary were, what he should expect. The possibilities were limited during the day. No demon activity. Unless it was an underground tunnel or something. Or a possession.

She told him the location, helped him apply the Marks, and that was it. Hence the grumbling. He didn't like being left in the dark. He was the adult here, after all. He had every right to know what he was walking in to.

But then, maybe if he'd been around earlier, he would have been the one to receive the call. He should have headed back to the Institute when he originally intended to. No matter how good or clever or _sneaky_ the warlock had been at persuading him otherwise.

As they reached the street, Alec came to a sudden stop, disbelieving eyes staring at the dark green SUV like it was an alien. Or better yet, a demon about to launch an attack on the Institute.

Then one of the back windows rolled down and Clary poked her bright head out with a laugh, obviously making fun of the look on his face. "It's an Explorer, Alec. Perfectly safe."

"An Explorer?" he repeated, moistening his lower lip anxiously.

"Yeah, it's an used Ford. Belated birthday present from my mom and Luke. Isn't it awesome?" she chirped with a grin. The passenger door popped open and Jace stepped out, also geared up in black leather, although he was armed with a hand-held vacuum and a trash bag.

"Now we can go," Jace decided.

"We don't have time for cleaning," Isabelle snapped, tossing a bag of supplies in the back.

"I can't believe you have a car," Alec repeated, still dazed.

"I know! And guess what!"

"What…?"

"I got my license!"

"When did that happen?"

"When you were flat on your back yesterday," Jace remarked, clapping him on the shoulder. By which he meant, lying on his _stomach _in the infirmary, in unbearable pain.

Alec tensed, but obviously Jace knew he was recovered. Everyone knew Magnus had been by, and that he'd left with the warlock not long after. It would have been fairly easy to assume then that he'd let the Magnus heal him. Otherwise Alec wouldn't be up and walking today, without issue.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Luke test drove it. And it had a tune up recently. It's a certified pre-owned."

"I mean…your driving?"

"It'll be fine! Steering through stop and go traffic is nothing to fighting demons."

"Do you have a license for that now too?" Alec mocked, shooting Jace a pointed glance which clearly said: NO WAY SHE'S READY.

No way she fit the necessary training in on one day, too, while getting her license and acquiring a new/old SUV.

"Relax," Jace was saying, disposing of the tied up trash bag. "Clary's going to help us get inside, then she's going back to the car. We've already agreed."

"Because she always does exactly what you say," Alex muttered under his breath.

Isabelle was climbing into the back seat, and Clary was crawling into the front, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and bright converse. At least it looked like she wasn't trying to gear up for a fight. Maybe she would behave.

Still, he didn't like having her around if she wasn't ready. She didn't even look Marked or anything, just in case.

"Come on!" Clary called from the driver's seat, snapping her belt in place and tapping the horn. Great, trigger happy teenager behind the wheel.

Jace climbed back in the passenger side and slammed the door. Which meant Alec had the back seat, along with Isabelle.

Sighing, he climbed inside and shut the door behind him, dreading the ride ahead more than whatever they were walking into, in Queens.

The click of his seatbelt locking in place - it sounded like dreadful resignation.


	16. Building

"WATCH OUT!" Alec gritted his teeth, trying not to scream.

Isabelle was staring out the window like the car wasn't even in motion, obviously thinking hard about something else. Jace was fiddling with something small and metal. So that just left Alec to express any concern about Clary's erratic driving. Her disregard of yellow lights (and even ignoring one red), her heavy foot slamming down on the gas every time they started in motion again, slamming all four of them forward, straining against their seat belts. And worst of all, she couldn't seem to stay on the left side of the lane. The Explorer kept veering dangerously right, threatening to take out parked cars, or in this case, someone waiting to cross the street.

Clary gasped and the tires squealed in protest, the SUV swerving left just in time to avoid a case of vehicular manslaughter.

"Nice save," Jace remarked, flicking a half-smile over at her, then a smirk back at Alec – obviously enjoying his anxiety.

Suicidal bastard! Alec wanted to make it to Queens alive. And he didn't want to be party to anyone else being hurt in the process.

"Just…try to be more careful, Clary. Take it slow," Alec coached, as if he were the new authority on driving.

"So…when are you getting your license, Alec?" Isabelle asked distractedly. Alec twitched.

"I've been busy."

"Don't I know," she replied. What the hell was her problem? Three days ago she was fine with him seeing Magnus. She was practically cheering them on. Now, suddenly, she was—

"CLARY!" Alec gasped, pointing straight ahead. The light was red and there were people crossing the street. Alot of people.

"What?" she replied, having fully intended to slow down – at the very last minute. She punched down on the brake, the SUV lurching forward again. The bag in the back rolled along the floor and hit the back seat hard.

"There better not be anything broken in there," Isabelle warned under her breath.

Alec sagged back against the seat, grateful now that he'd missed his morning coffee. And neglected to eat anything. He couldn't remember the last time his stomach had been this unsettled. Near-death experiences tended to make him a little queasy. Especially when he was strapped in by a seatbelt, no way to escape it.

- - -

Alec was the first one unbuckled, and out the door, all but falling onto the sidewalk with uneven legs. He hunched slightly, palms resting against his knees, eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you going to vomit?" Isabelle inquired, mocking him. She followed him out and shut the door, her bag slung over one shoulder.

"Shut up," he growled, but weakly.

"It wasn't that bad," Isabelle pointed out.

"Well done," Jace was commending Clary, who came round the car flushed with excitement and twirling the keys around her pointer, making all of the metal jingle together.

"Please don't do that," Alec requested, straightening up.

"Did you forget to take your Midol this morning, Alice?"

Alec shot Jace a glare in lieu of a punch.

"So what are we doing here?" Alec insisted, glancing between the three of them. He had the strong suspicion that everyone knew exactly what this call was about, and he was the only one still in the dark.

Sure enough, Isabelle finally looked up, focusing on Jace. Clary too consulted Jace, her expression concerned and wary. Alec blinked and frowned, and looked from Isabelle to Jace and back, ignoring Clary altogether.

"Why am I even here?" he demanded, growing frustrated. If they weren't going to even brief him on what they were dealing with, how was he supposed to—

"A rogue warlock," Jace replied, and that did it. Alec sobered up, blinking again.

"Go on."

"There were gunshots in the building last night. The police were called, and a body was recovered. But the neighbors have been reporting disturbances inside the same apartment this morning. The cops came back twice and there's nothing there, just an empty flat. It's a wreck, but nobody's home."

"We don't moonlight for the NYPD. So, why are we here?" Alec repeated.

"Because the flat belongs to Daniel Wyrick. A warlock."

"OK….?"

"The body the police recovered didn't belong to Daniel Wyrick," Jace continued. "It was a mundane. A male. And he wasn't just shot. There were runes all over him."

Alec inhaled sharply, not sure what to make of that information. Clary was still looking at him with sympathy. He tried to ignore her, not sure why she thought he might be upset by the news. He didn't know a warlock named Daniel. Magnus was the only warlock he knew personally.

"So…the warlock did this to him?"

Jace shrugged. "Either he was torturing the guy, or he was trying to save him. Either way, you don't Mark mundanes."

"He's probably long gone by now. He may be insane, but he can't be an idiot," Isabelle pointed out.

"I don't think so," Jace replied, shaking his head. "I think he's hiding out in that crappy apartment, waiting for someone to take him in. And since the place is obviously protected, or at the least, heavily glamored, and the police aren't going to be able to arrest him, we're going to take him in."

"A rogue warlock? That may or may not have killed a mundane?" Alec clarified, glancing between Jace and Isabelle. Were they ready to walk in there in such small numbers? With their blades and their steles. It still didn't seem like enough, especially when faced with a warlock who might no longer be concerned with playing by the rules.

"I'm going to unlock the door. Unless he's got the whole building protected. I guess that'll take more work," Clary was saying.

"Did you bring your pad?"

She shook her head, showing up a tattoo marker she'd been carrying in her back pocket. "I thought this would be more fun. I can practice right on the door, or the walls."

Jace smiled a little. Isabelle looked bored. Alec looked troubled.

"All right, team. Let's go."

Isabelle unzipped the bag, removing her whip, then carefully passed a pair of seraph blades off to Alec. Jace was already wearing his, and he walked ahead with Clary. They were talking quietly.

Alec whispered to one of the blades, naming it. Isabelle touched his hand before he finished with the second.

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I've been a bitch all morning. I didn't sleep well last night. And I may have panicked a little bit when we got the call, and you weren't home."

"You can handle the calls now. I don't mind."

"It's not that…" she tried, shaking her head. "I guess – I know it sounds pathetic, but I was worried about you."

He tried to smile a little bit, giving her arm a squeeze. "You don't have to worry about me."

"True. You've got Magnus," she said, and something about her tone almost sounded bitter. Or maybe even a little jealous.

Alec nodded a little, not wanting to talk about Magnus right now. So that cut the bonding short, and they fell in line behind Jace and Clary, heading down the street in search of the right building.


	17. Bound

"Why was it like pulling teeth?"

"What?" Isabelle replied, distracted again. What was she thinking? Alec looked at her, his brow wrinkled.

"Why didn't you want me to know the truth? Why'd you think I couldn't handle knowing that there's a warlock on the loose killing mundanes in Queens?"

Isabelle shot him a look, like 'isn't it obvious?' It wasn't.

"Seriously. Did you think because he's a warlock that I'd turn into some kind of softie? Is that it?" Alec scowled.

"Jace said it was no big deal," Isabelle sighed, shaking her head. "He said you wouldn't give a rip as long as it wasn't Magnus we're after. But Clary was worried you'd be biased."

"Biased?" he asked, offended.

"Well, she might not have described it that way. I guess she was concerned you'd see some kind of parallel between you and Magnus and this creep."

"Why would I? Magnus obeys the law."

"True…"

"And the victim was a mundane, right? Not…?"

"He wasn't a shadowhunter, no."

"Then, I don't get it?"

"OK. Look. Maybe it's incredibly stupid, and not the case at all," Isabelle had lowered her voice, rolling her eyes at Clary's back. Alec studied the pair of them walking ahead, laughing. They were actually _laughing_, going into this. That was so Jace. "But Clary thinks that the man that was shot and this warlock were involved."

Alec glanced at his sister sidelong, processing this possibility. "Oh."

"Yeah. So we don't have any idea what this Daniel guy was like prior to losing his suspected boy toy," Alec winced at the phrasing, but let Isabelle go on, "but we're pretty sure he flipped his lid after. He didn't just try to bring back the victim. There were a number of dead animals found in the building, and scorch marks like there was a fire in the hallway. I think our warlock is acting out."

"So he wasn't on the Clave's radar before, but now, he's basically a danger to society, so we still bring him in?"

"If Clary's right," Isabelle replied. "On the other hand, if Jace is right, then he's just an evil SOB."

"And what do you think?"

Isabelle shrugged, glancing briefly back at Alec, winding her whip around her wrist. "I just hope we take him unaware."

Alec nodded somberly, hoping that would be the case.

- - -

They all stopped out front of the right address, a three-story tall red brick building. From the outside, it didn't seem out of the ordinary. Or foreboding. It definitely didn't look like a crime scene.

Maybe they'd overestimated the difficulty of getting inside – there were no wards, no spells keeping people out from the building itself. Jace went first and simply turned the door knob, granting access to the main corridor. Isabelle and Alec followed him inside. Jace insisted Clary keep back, just in case, although she was close behind the Lightwoods, arms crossed over her chest.

"I think we're getting hotter," Jace whispered, gesturing to the bright yellow tape in front of one of the second floor apartments. It clearly read CRIME SCENE and DO NOT CROSS. Someone had already graffitied the door with a spray can, a blurry skull and crossbones. And there was a more careful pentagram drawn beneath that. Alec wasn't sure if it actually served some magical purpose, or if it was just another way of defacing the door.

"Clary. Go back outside and wait for us."

"But you said you'd need me to—"

"We've got this," Jace said under his breath, cutting her off. "Go wait in the car."

When her cheeks started to puff up, he turned his gold eyes on her with a look of warning. He wasn't playing around. "Now, Clary!" he hissed. Of course, he was just being overprotective of his unprepared, unprotected girlfriend, but Clary didn't see it that way. Alec could tell – she looked hurt. She took two shaky steps backward, then turned, and headed quickly back down the stairs, her little fists clenched.

She didn't want Jace to see her cry. He hadn't noticed; he had returned his attention to the door, ripping down the tape.

"Don't touch that," Alec scolded.

"And how did you plan on getting inside, genius? I'm not playing limbo with police tape."

He had a point. Still, Alec scowled. Then he reached for one of the seraph blades at his hip, lifting it out of the waistband in readiness.

Isabelle, likewise, was unraveling her whip. Jace hadn't reached for any of his weapons, but his lip twitched.

Instead of reaching for the knob and trying to open the door, he lifted his knee and kicked at the door hard with the sole of his boot.

And was immediately thrown backward into the wall. Alec gaped, moving after him.

"Damnit, Jace. You're an idiot," he chided. The blonde boy didn't even groan, just took Alec's arm and climbed back up to his feet, looking angry.

If Jace hadn't been trying to play hero, he would have gone with the original assumption that the apartment had some kind of protection spell on it, and acknowledged that Clary would be useful getting in. Sometimes brute force just wasn't enough.

But Jace was already reaching for his stele, drawing an unlocking rune on the wood, right over the skull and crossbones.

Then, just because he was a stubborn ass, Jace tried to kick down the door again. This time it gave, wood splintering, and the door flying back on its hinges – just like he'd originally intended.

"Daniel Wyrick!" he called out, stepping boldly inside the stale smelling apartment. "The Clave would like an audience with you – if it's not too inconvenient?" Jace almost sounded charming, formally addressing the empty place like they were just there to enjoy a cup of tea and talk about old times. Instead of bringing in an alleged murderer.

Alec followed behind him, struck by the eerie silence of the place. The AC hummed. Somewhere, a window was open, the sounds of outside traffic very loud. For a moment, he wondered if the warlock hadn't left after all. Or at the least, opened a Portal when he realized he had company as the door exploded.

But then Alec was struck by the _smell_, breathing in old smoke. Something had been burning, and not long ago. But beneath the traces of arson, and the stale air, there was something else. Something sticky sweet, something that tickled his nose in a familiar way…

The smell of a warlock.

"He's here!" Alec whispered in warning – knowing that smell was too strong just to be something he left behind on his clothes or his things. He had to be—

A stream of red flew past the right side of Alec's face. Isabelle cried out, lashing out with her whip reflexively. She only managed to knock a picture frame off the wall. It hit the floor and shattered. Jace had two seraph blades out in a second, and Alec moved to the wall behind him, flattening himself out against it.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" A voice roared from across the room, another volley of fire being thrown. That was it – the scorch marks along the wall, the reason the place reeked of smoke. Unlike the blue-gold sparks Magnus wielded with his fingertips, Daniel Wyrick threw flames. They were bright red and angry, just like his mussed hair, which is the only thing aside from his very pale skin, that Alec could make out distinctly.

Jace twisted his torso awkwardly, narrowly avoiding the attack. In the second following, he threw one of the seraph blades at the warlock. Alec watched its trajectory with wide eyes, realizing Jace hadn't aimed to immobilize the man – he threw the blade precisely towards the center of his chest.

And of course the warlock deflected it, sending the weapon into the wall not far from where Alec stood. The blade was embedded several inches in the wall, still glowing.

Realizing he looked like a coward, waiting there out of reach of the warlock, the only one who had yet to launch an attack, Alec made a quick grab for the end of Jace's blade, tugging hard in order to remove it from the wall. It ripped a hole in the dark beige paint, plaster crumbling.

The warlock hissed something that sounded like a curse and Jace froze where he stood, his second blade lifted, suspended in the air – about to throw. Isabelle was running inside the apartment, the leather burnt from her left shoulder. Alec could see the blood and red, blistered had to be hurting. Still, she cracked her whip, lashing out against the warlock in the face – taking him by surprise. Alec heard the painful shriek, saw the splatter of blood. Most of it from a busted lip. It wasn't enough.

Alec finished what Jace had started, throwing the blade towards the warlock's chest before he could react with his flame throwing hands and hurt Isabelle again.

This time the seraph blade ran him through, throwing him back like a battle ax might have. In actuality, he was simply crippled by the pain, not the force of the blow, sliding down to the floor, gripping the hilt of the blade.

"Don't even try it," Isabelle got out, snapping the end of her whip around his wrists, in lieu of proper handcuffs. The warlock groaned, his mouth a smear of dark red, his face twisted with anger and pain.

Whoever Daniel Wyrick may have been before these last few days, it was irrelevant to Alec – the warlock looked like an evil SOB now.

Alec gagged the warlock so he couldn't enact a spell. Isabelle loaned the use of her whip, at least until they found proper restraints. And Jace, unfrozen as soon as the warlock had been wounded, manhandled him down the stairs.

Clary felt a little better when Jace asked (with a please and thank you) if she would mind helping them with a 'binding' and 'silence' rune. She finally got to make use of her tattoo marker, working her own magic. Worked like a charm, the warlock glaring at them in disbelief when his wrists were glued together by invisible handcuffs and he couldn't get a single word out, after Alec had removed the wadded tablecloth from his mouth.

They loaded him into the back of the Explorer and headed back to the Institute, Alec drawing an _iratze_ just beside the burnt flesh of Isabelle's left shoulder, Jace giving Clary a play-by-play of how it had gone down. Clary was a good sport about it, listening intently, shooting Alec a big grin through the mirror when Jace pointed out that he'd been the one to take the warlock down.

Alec felt gratified. At least he'd proven himself – he wasn't afraid to do his job, even if it involved a warlock instead of a demon. And this time, he hadn't gotten hurt, which was also a plus. Isabelle's burn was already healing, and Jace – well, his pride might be bruised, but that was it.

All in all, not a bad morning shift. But he wasn't naive enough to think the day's work was finished.


	18. Between

As soon as the Explorer had safely arrived again at the Institute, an argument exploded up front.

Alec hadn't realized the shift in mood had taken place; he was consciously trying to tune out Clary's erratic driving and the furious kicking coming from behind him a majority of the way (when the warlock wasn't being thrown from side to side by Clary's sharp, overexaggerated turns).

Apparently once the initial conversation about the successful snatch-and-grab of the warlock had run its course, Clary revisited the fact that she'd been made to wait outside the building, unable to help. And Jace held fast to his decision to deal with the situation without her help – and they obviously had, so it was the right course. The safer course.

"Newsflash! I'm a shadowhunter too! Or did you happen to forget everything that happened in Idris? Everything I've done? I can _help_—"

"You can _doodle_, Clary. There's more to a real fight than drawing runes."

"I know how to use a seraph blade! I practically taught myself – and don't say you weren't impressed when I did. I can do more than 'doodle' if you'd just teach me—"

"I don't have time to roleplay with you right now, Clary. Not that the whole teacher-student thing doesn't have its appeal—"

Clary's fist came down on the horn. She removed the keys from the ignition and shoved to car door open, coming around. That's the point where Alec snapped back to reality, lifting his head at the noise in time to see Jace unsnap his belt – muttering under his breath, then climb out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him.

He watched Jace follow the furious, significantly shorter redhead up towards the building, grabbing her elbow. Clary spun around and threw a punch, screaming at him. Alec's lip twitched. Go Clary.

Alec removed his seatbelt, climbing out of the Explorer. Isabelle was waiting at the back, intending to help him unload the Downworlder, since both Clary and Jace seemed to have forgotten about the warlock. At least they had taken their shouting match inside.

"Clary's right," Isabelle pointed out. She'd been listening to the argument longer than he had. It was kind of weird to see Isabelle signifying with Clary.

"I can see her point," Alec replied, unlatching the trunk with a click. "She's not going to be able to progress without training, but it's stupid to wait on Jace."

Isabelle nodded. His plan was painfully transparent – he was withholding – or, well, indefinitely postponing training Clary in an attempt to keep her away from the fighting. Which might work, A) if Clary wasn't epically stubborn B) if she didn't insist on coming, with or without training, and C) if Jace was the only one qualified to teach her.

The fact that she had waited this long, Alec figured it was because she obviously wanted Jace to be the one. She wanted to work with him, to learn from him. Not that Alec would want to train with his significant other – he couldn't even imagine trying to get Magnus to focus, but Clary seemed to think it would work. It was what she wanted.

It wasn't what Jace wanted. He ought to just come out and say it. Maybe it would soften Clary up a little. Then maybe they could compromise. In Alec's mind, a prepared Clary was a hell of a lot safer than an unprepared and very scared Clary. Her confidence would grow with her training, and she might even turn out to be a very capable shadowhunter. Not just a creator of unique runes, or an exceptionally brave girl willing to risk everything for the people she loved.

But that was Jace's call. He wasn't going to risk pissing him off right now by offering to help Clary out, although he was already predicting that might be Clary's next maneuver.

"Alec!" Isabelle called. Oops. He'd faded out again.

Isabelle was struggling with the warlock's legs. He was still kicking, just about the only thing he could do bound and gagged, thrown across the floor of the Explorer.

"Stop it," Alec ordered, grabbing one of the guy's ankles and dragging him closer to the edge of the SUV. Isabelle took the other leg in hand, and they both hauled him up into a seated position. There was dried blood all over Daniel Wyrick's face. He really looked rabid, especially with his wide, angry eyes and the extra saliva that seeped from his clamped mouth.

Not to mention, there was a sizable wound in his chest, where the seraph blade had been removed. Through the torn shirt, Alec could see it was particularly nasty. By all rights, if the man wasn't a warlock, he would be dead. But immortality doesn't necessarily come with fast healing, and a seraph blade isn't the same as a mundane weapon. It probably hurt like hell.

The warlock hissed as they hauled him down to his feet. Isabelle reached around and shut up the SUV, grabbing her bag. Alec towed the warlock along, gripping his arm fairly tight.

The smell was distracting. He smelled so much like Magnus. In his mind, maybe Alec had wanted to believe that strange, sweet scent was just something unique to him, something he put off because he had a special cologne or because…he was _Magnus_. Unfortunately, it was just because he was a warlock. Same as demons having a sickening, sweet and sulfurous odor. At least Magnus's scent wasn't off-putting.

He wanted it to be off-putting, coming off Daniel Wyrick. Alec refused to look the warlock in the eye, having to forcibly shove him inside because he refused to walk any further.

"I'll drag you by your wrists, if you make me," Alec warned – not sure if he'd really do it or not. But he wanted the warlock to know he wasn't messing around.

Isabelle took over when they reached the elevator, shoving the warlock in first, then forcing him up against the back. Alec operated the elevator, ignoring the angry, muffled sounds the warlock made behind his magically sealed lips.

So he wasn't sure what the original plan was. Were they holding him temporarily? Was someone else transferring him? Isabelle was no help. She suggested they throw him in the training room, which wasn't very original, but at least they had the right equipment (from Jace's brief imprisonment). Sure, Jace had managed to escape, but it wouldn't have been possible if he'd actually been watched. Flooding the Institute with people was pointless, without someone guarding the room.

Alec was fine being charged with that responsibility, babysitting the warlock until he knew what the next step was. It's not like they could just send him to the Silent City right now. It was an empty tomb of a prison, without its traditional guardians alive to stand watch.

Maybe he'd be transferred to Alicante for trial and imprisonment. The Clave had only recently convened there.

"Let's take him to the training room," Alec agreed when the elevator stopped. He and Isabelle took one of the warlock's arms. He gave them a token struggle, then let his knees buckle. Sighing, Alec lifted him up off his feet. Together, the Lightwoods pretty much carried him the rest of the way.

Jace was waiting for them, still in his gear, and looking irritated.

"Sorry. This room's already been reserved. But I'd just say an hour, tops."

"Where are we supposed to keep him?" Alec asked, frowning.

"I don't know," Jace shrugged. "Why don't you strap him to your bed and have your way with him?"

Alec gritted his teeth, nails unconsciously digging into the warlock's arm as they held him up. Jace chuckled, ducking back inside the training room. Alec briefly caught a glimpse of Clary waiting near the wall before the door closed again.

"Asshole."

"Come on. Let's take him to the library."

"The library?" Alec asked, making a face.

"Wouldn't you rather stow him in a room full of books than, say, in the weapons room?"

"Fine," Alec muttered, heading to the library with the warlock who still refused to walk on his own.


	19. Busted

It looked like a scene from a mob movie. Alec wasn't big on pop culture – at least, current trends, but he knew enough to be able to draw a parallel between early 20th century gangsters and the sight of the warlock crudely tied to a chair, bound wrists behind his back, lips still invisibly sealed.

But Alec suspected the warlock was getting tired of fighting. Either that, or the blood loss and the pain of the wound in his chest overcame his desire to fight the shadowhunters. Daniel Wyrick sagged against the back of the chair, head bowed, steadily drooling.

Alec frowned, sitting on the edge of the table in front of him.

"Isabelle."

His sister lifted her head from the book she'd been flipping through. It was just a cover. Alec could tell she was already growing impatient watching the warlock, and there was nothing to keep her interest in the library. So he might as well send her on a useful errand.

"Will you get some supplies from the infirmary?"

"Why? You're not hurt, are you?" He glanced back over his shoulder at the genuine concern on her face.

"I'm fine."

"Then, what—"

"We need to clean the wound, and bandage it up."

Isabelle scowled, realizing he was talking about the warlock. She looked like she was going to refuse, so he added: "We're holding him for the Clave. We don't have the right to torture him. Guilty or not, we can't hand him over like this."

"We don't patch up demons when they try to kill us."

"That's different," he replied, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous comparison.

"He's not human," Isabelle pointed out.

"I know."

"He's not Magnus, either," she got in, and Alec shot her a look which forced her to shut her mouth.

"Fine. But I'm not patching him up," she huffed, leaving the room. That was fine. He'd do the job. He'd made the hole in the warlock's chest, after all. He could clean up the mess.

When he glanced back at the bound warlock, Alec was surprised to find that Daniel Wyrick had lifted his head and was watching him intently. His eyes were similar to Magnus's, at least the vertical slits of the pupils. But they were a light green, no gold whatsoever. And they were shot with red.

"I'm not doing this for you," Alec snapped. The warlock barely blinked, his expression unchanged. Not that it could change much, without being able to move his mouth.

"You're insane," he decided, managing to keep his gaze level with the warlock's. Those green eyes narrowed with anger. It sounded like he was trying to growl.

"And you're an idiot," Alec continued. "You knew who we were, and you still attacked us. We wouldn't have hurt you, if you'd just turned yourself in."

That low, rumbling noise again. Then the warlock turned his face sharply away, refusing to look at him.

"You don't believe me?" Alec asked, folding his arms across his chest.

No response from the warlock.

"We can keep you under suspicion of murder, under Clave law. The truth will come out in your trial. But if you're innocent, you could have been released. You could have just walked away and started over somewhere else. But now you've attacked three people – and you can't hide it with a glamour. We can testify to it at your trial."

Daniel Wyrick's jaw appeared to tighten, but he continued to stare at the shelf of books.

Alec mused for a second, studying the warlock's profile. He wasn't unattractive, beneath the dried blood and the bruising. And the frozen scowl. Unlike Magnus, he didn't wear any makeup or bother with his hair. Although given the circumstances, he ought to be allowed to look a mess. Maybe he usually cared more. Maybe he didn't.

"Was he your boyfriend? The man the police found in your apartment?"

No response. Alec watched the warlock carefully, looking for the smallest shift in his features – maybe a twitch of the eyes. A look of pain. Of regret.

There was nothing. On the other hand, he didn't look offended by the notion that he might have been seeing a mundane. Or another man, for that matter, which Alec considered supporting evidence.

"Did you love him?"

The warlock turned his angry eyes back on Alec so suddenly, he jumped. It was eerie, the quiet glare. Even though he knew that the warlock couldn't do anything, couldn't get up or use his hands, couldn't hurl insults or electric fire at him for suggesting it, Alec still rose from the table and moved away. The warlock's eyes followed him, intimidating.

Then he lowered his eyes, staring at Alec's waist. The seraph blade poking out of his waistband? Alec glanced down, checking it out.

No, the seraph blade was on his other side. The warlock wasn't inspecting his weapon, but looking at his wrist. And Alec was looking at it now too, surprised. The mark that Magnus had left last night, the tattoo that had disappeared when Magnus kissed his wrist, it was back. How long had it been there?

Heat infused his face, and Alec shoved his hand in his pocket, hiding the tattoo.

The door to the library clicked open, Isabelle returned with the medical supplies.

"Thanks," Alec replied, moving over to the table again, where she spread out the bandages, the antiseptic, scissors, gauze, and what looked like a bottle of ether. Alec's brows raised in question.

"I didn't know if you wanted to knock him out, and I figured you'd prefer a nonviolent way to go about it," she explained, lifting her chin. It looked like she wouldn't be opposed to hitting him over the head, if the ether wasn't enough to subdue a warlock.

"Thanks." But Alec had no intention of giving the warlock ether. They had to take it while awake and painfully aware, all the time. And maybe having him awake while Alec cleaned the wound would make him work that much faster. He just wanted to get it over with and get away from the warlock.

As Alec had hoped, Isabelle assisted him, tearing the warlock's shirt down the path of the original rip, clearing his chest. Alec tried not to suck in a breath at the sight of the wound. It should have been fatal. It would have killed them.

The fact that he had stopped bleeding was amazing. Of course, it didn't last long, as Alec started pouring the antiseptic over the gaping wound. The warlock groaned, clenching his eyes shut. When Alec picked up the second bottle - the burning mixture Jace had applied to his back previously, he wasn't surprised to hear the warlock scream behind his sealed lips. He started thrashing in the chair.

"Isabelle!" he warned. His sister stepped up behind the twisting warlock, clamping his shoulders and holding him still in the chair so Alec could continue to work.

Harsh breaths puffed from Daniel Wyrick's nose, his chest heaving. It made it that much more difficult for Alec to apply the bandage. He bit his lip, getting up to retrieve the tape and the scissors.

Given the circumstances, it wasn't a bad job. A red patch of blood was already dotting the bandage. Hopefully it would stop soon, and the bandage wouldn't have to be applied. Just changed again, when it was time.

But that would be someone else's job. Alec and Isabelle were in the process of clearing away the bloody gauze and capping bottles when the door opened again. Maryse Lightwood stepped into the library, glancing between her children to the bound warlock - brows lifting, before her eyes shifted back to Alec.

"I see," she said, clearly unphased by the scene. She probably had already been informed about the events of the morning. Or maybe it was just a welcome relief to come home to nothing more than a wounded warlock in their custody, rather than any of her teenage children in captivity, in trouble, or near-dying.

"Good afternoon, mother," Isabelle greeted, snapping the supplies case closed, before calmly leaving the room. Alec glared at her retreating back.

"You can go too, Alec."

"But who's going to--"

"We're handling it," Maryse replied, cutting him off. Alec nodded, moving towards the door. He was tempted to look back, but he didn't, closing the library door behind him.

* * *

Removing the seraph blade from his waistband, Alec trudged down the hallway, headed for his bedroom. He was in desparate need of a shower. He hadn't made the time for one this morning, and it was always necessary after a fight - although usually he returned with wounds or covered in mud, or worse. But the sticky feel of his own sweat beneath the leather was a constant, and reason enough to welcome the hot, cleansing spray.

Holding his blade in one hand, he used the other to twist the doorknob, stepping inside his room.

A familiar sweet smell permeated the small space. Alec's nostrils burned, and automatically, he glanced towards his bed. It was still neatly made and unslept in. But his clothes were draped over the center. A fresh shirt and a pair of jeans. He didn't remember setting them out earlier.

What's more, the water was already running, steam coming out beneath the bathroom door.

Fortunately he was still gripping his blade. Alec cautiously stepped up to the closed door, listening. But he could only make out the sound of the shower running, the water falling rhythmically. Then the sudden rip of the shower curtain being pushed back. Someone was using his shower!

Reaching out, he counted silently to three, then shoved the door open. Being such a small, cramped space, rather than smack back against the door jam, it collided with the tall figure leaning over the edge of the shower, messing with the taps.

"Magnus?"

The warlock turned suddenly, his grin slipping when he noticed Alec holding the blade and pointing it in his direction.

"What are you doing here?" Alec pressed, his heart racing from the almost-showdown with an intruder.

"That happy to see me?" Magnus retorted, glitter-encrusted eyebrow raised. He was fully dressed, his hair styled in its usual spikes. He wasn't preparing to take a shower, nor was in need of one. He was getting the water ready...for Alec?

Alec didn't even expect Magnus to be awake at this hour, much less running the hot water for him. What was he doing at the Institute in the middle of the day? What was he doing in his _room_?

As if he sensed that Alec wasn't going to be able to function until he had his explanation, Magnus sighed and reached for the towel folded over the rack, blotting his hands with it.

"Your mother called me here. Apparently I'm opening a portal to Idris in an hour. Which means we've got fifty minutes to spare. So start undressing."

Alec gaped, still gripping his weapon. Magnus stared at him, waiting for a response. Finally he reached out and carefully pried the blade loose from the shadowhunter's fingers, setting it aside with his fingertips - as if it were something disgusting and soiled.

"So, since I'm doing you yet another epic favor, don't you think I deserve to know what's going on? And why I didn't receive a call from you first?"


	20. Breach

"I didn't have my phone on me," Alec tentatively replied. He'd been in a rush earlier. It hadn't occurred to him to grab his cell.

"I know. It's dead. I just put it on the charger."

"Oh. Then you know why I didn't call…"

"You still have a landline."

"I haven't had a spare moment," Alec sighed, answered truthfully. The steam in the room made his face hot. That, and the way Magnus was looking at him.

"Are you leaving me so soon?" Magnus purred after several seconds of silence. He sounded playful, but his eyes were still intently studying Alec's face, registering the dazed, slow-motion blinking. Alec had to think about the question, realizing what he was really asking.

Magnus thought the Portal was for them, that they were all going on another trip to Idris. Alec wasn't sure who the portal was really meant for, but if he suspected that was the case, he would have let Magnus know he was leaving. Of course.

"I don't know what's going on," Alec admitted, rubbing his arm through his gear. "You probably know more than I do, because I wasn't aware of the Portal, or you coming here. My mom just came in and took over."

"Took over what? Your lunch plans?"

Alec frowned, shaking his head - not sure exactly how much he should get into it with Magnus.

Magnus waited, brows raised.

He deserved to know why he was being asked to open another portal - to transport a prisoner to the Gard in Alicante. Alec could see why his mom might not have provided that information in the same conversation where she asked the warlock if he would help them (given that the prisoner was a fellow warlock), but now that Magnus was here, and blindly offering, he ought to know the truth.

Alec hoped he wouldn't object in some way. But that was stupid, right? Magnus wouldn't side with a potential murderer. And certainly not someone who had attempted to hurt Alec.

He might even be proud that Alec had saved the day, so to speak.

Alec gnawed on his lower lip. He wasn't sure. It could go either way. Just because another warlock was involved. And even though Alec had rarely heard Magnus speak of other warlocks, they still had more in common with him than the shadowhunter did. He wasn't sure what his stance would be.

Magnus was still waiting, watching him. His brows had drawn together in concern, and Alec bowed his head, giving in.

"We're holding someone for the Clave."

"Who?"

"A warlock."

"Technically, that's a 'what' answer. Who is it?" Magnus asked again.

"Daniel Wyrick is his name."

Magnus blinked, not appearing to recognize the warlock's name. Alec wasn't really surprised. He was actually…kind of relieved, secretly hoping they weren't associates in some way, or old friends. Alec didn't like to think of Magnus in any way connected to someone who might be a murderer. Someone who no longer respected the law.

"And what are you holding him for?"

"Someone was shot in his apartment last night. And he was covered in runes. I don't think he killed the guy, but he did something to him, and he's not cooperating, so we have no choice but to turn him in."

"Covered in runes?"

Alec nodded.

"What did they look like?"

"I don't know. The police handled the body. Jace told me about it, but I haven't seen pictures or anything."

Magnus seemed to consider that information, filing it away for later. After a pause, he snapped out of it, gently tugging on Alec's arm.

"Come on. We're wasting time – and all the hot water. Strip and get in the shower."

Alec was gaping again. Magnus laughed at the silly expression.

"Do you want me to step outside?"

"If that's OK…" Alec hedged, blushing fiercely.

"I'll wait on your undersized bed. I already picked out some clothes for you."

"I know. I saw. Thanks," Alec replied, tugging at the zipper, but not really getting far. Magnus was still hovering.

"Your closet is appalling. I'm not saying I was surprised to find your entire wardrobe is black on black. But I was still hoping you might have a secret corner with a little color."

"I'm still working on that. I haven't really had much time."

"Then we'll make time," Magnus decided, suggesting they shop for clothes together. Soon.

"K," Alec replied, just to get him out of the bathroom. The zipper slid down a little more, Magnus's eyes following its progress. Alec paused, teeth anxiously working on his lower lip again. Magnus chuckled.

"Fine. I'm going," the warlock sighed, gracefully sliding between Alec and the door, leaving him alone in the bathroom. Alec quickly closed the door after him, removing his gear in record time. Then he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, sighing in pleasure.

* * *

Hair still dripping and a clean towel wrapped around his waist, Alec poked his head out of the steamy bathroom, holding his hand out for the clothes Magnus had set out.

"You smell nice," Magnus complimented. Alec lowered his eyes, taking the shirt and jeans and retreating.

"Don't suppose you need any help?" Magnus taunted through the door. Alec shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm good!"

Alec changed quickly, not a big fan of pulling on jeans fresh out of the shower. They always fit so tight, the denim clingy. Something about the newly dried skin just made it uncomfortable, and he made a face at his blurry reflection - wishing Magnus had found an older, baggier pair.

Magnus must have heard him groan, because he knocked on the door. "Are you fooling around in there?"

"No!" Alec replied, shoving the door open, almost hitting the warlock in the face. His own face was flaming.

Magnus's eyes followed him across the room. Flustered, Alec sat down on the edge of his bed, reaching for the rolled up pair of socks, pulling them on.

"Alec?"

The shadowhunter lifted his head, glancing up at Magnus, who stood very close. Instead of looming over him awkwardly, Magnus took a seat to his left, the mattress sinking a little bit more.

"I lied to you last night, and I shouldn't have."

"Lied to me about what?" Alec asked, frowning.

"That tattoo on your wrist."

Alec shifted to look at Magnus, wondering why it had reappeared. What did it mean?

"What about it?"

"It's not my name. Not in any language."

"Oh." Alec's frown deepened, and he glanced down at his exposed wrist, then back up at the warlock, wanting an explanation. The truth, this time.

"It's an old rune for courage. It's not like the fearless rune. It's not just an one-time shot of adrenaline. It's a permanent Mark," Magnus explained without pause - as if he knew Alec might be unhappy to hear the truth, and therefor needed to get it all out in one breath.

"So...you Marked me? Permanently."

"I did, and I'm sorry. I should have asked you before I did it, but...well, at the time, I _did_ think it was kind of hot, the idea of marking you. Without the pain of a stele or the nasty scarring. And then later, I was glad I did it."

"Because I found the courage to make out with you?" Alec retorted, aghast. He got up from the bed, moving away from the warlock, remembering his impulsive reaction to Magnus's kiss.

But more than that, when he'd accused Magnus of using a spell of some sort to goad him into it, he hadn't been far from the truth. And Magnus had vehemently denied it, like he couldn't possibly be responsible. Alec was just being ridiculous.

Maybe it was his own desire that kept it going, but how was Alec supposed to know that it wasn't this Mark that started it? That gave him the courage to initiate it?

How could Alec ever be sure of anything he did, from now on - how could he trust that it wasn't the influence of the mark, effecting him?

"Because it will protect you," Magnus clarified, his eyes looking soft and regretful. Tough luck, feeling guilty about it now! Maybe he should have thought about it earlier, before he'd gone and put something permanent on Alec's wrist without his permission!

"Are you very angry with me?" Magnus asked gently, hands folded demurely in his lap. He looked like he was trying to play innocent - which totally didn't suit. Alec wasn't buying it.

"What do you think?" Alec replied bitterly, running his hand back through his wet hair, agitated.

"I think if you put your emotion aside for a second, you'll realize this is actually a good thing."

"I'm sorry. How can betraying my trust ever be a good thing?"

"It was an act of love, Alec. A gift. Granted, I went about it in the wrong way, but I meant to help you."

"Then you could have asked me first. Maybe I wouldn't have accepted it!"

Magnus shook his head, brow creased.

"Don't tell me what I want! I think I know myself better than you do," Alec replied, childishly.

"Then admit it. You wish you could bottle up some of Jace's courage."

"He's reckless and rash."

"And you're too careful, and you hate it. You spent two days trying to beat yourself up about the last attack, and it wasn't your fault! Accidents happen. But no one will be able to convince you of that." Alec started to argue, but Magnus pushed on. "I don't want you to doubt yourself, or feel you need to wallow in pain to prove a point to yourself. I wanted to help you. So I gave you courage. Just enough."

Alec opened his mouth and closed it again.

Looking back at the last twenty-four hours, he felt the difference. It was tangible. It wasn't just there, in the way he'd kissed the warlock on the stairwell. Or his failed attempts at stripping. It was there in the way he fought in Queens, the way he approached the warlock in private. It was subtle, true. No one else had suspected a change, except maybe Daniel Wyrick, who'd seen the Mark firsthand on his wrist. He had to know what it meant.

And now Alec knew the truth. And he tried to retain the anger, to be mad at Magnus for lying to him. But he couldn't.

If Magnus hadn't marked him last night, he wouldn't have found the courage to throw the seraph blade and subdue the warlock. And Jace and Clary, and even Isabelle were so proud of him - that he'd been the one to act. Especially because it was a warlock he was standing up against.

The old Alec might have hesitated, might have looked into those angry, but familiar-looking eyes and failed to do it. Then their unfounded concerns would have been justified. He would have proven too soft for the assignment.

"I hit him in the chest with Jace's seraph blade," Alec related, offhandedly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I pulled it out of the wall and I threw it into his chest."

"Ouch."

"But I cleaned out the wound and I bandaged it up later."

"That's very big of you."

Alec nodded a bit. Letting the warlock suffer just seemed unnecessary and cruel.

"So am I forgiven?" Magnus asked, looking up at him.

Alec nodded again, dipping the ends of his fingers into his tight pockets. He was hoping the jeans would stretch the longer he was in them.

"I know it wouldn't mean anything to you if I swore on the Angel - would that be considered blasphemy?" Magnus mused. "Never mind. Point is, I promise I won't do it again. I don't want to lie to you."

"I wouldn't have minded," Alec conceded. "I just wanted to be asked."

"Then I'll ask next time," Magnus promised, with a wink.

Alec smiled slightly. "Don't get cocky. There might not be a next time."

"Mhm. Then I'll wait for you to ask me."

"I wouldn't," Alec replied, fairly sure of that fact. It'd be like asking Magnus for a cheat sheet. And he'd rather fail than cheat, when no one else had the advantage.

But Magnus didn't seem dissuaded. He got up from the bed, reaching out for Alec. The shadowhunter stood still for the hug he knew was coming, allowing himself to be pulled in closer, breathing in the sweet scent. He tried to pretend it was still something distinctly _Magnus_ - and there were small notes that seperated the two. Like the smell of Magnus's clothing. And something citrusy - was it the product he put in his hair?

"I love you," Magnus breathed against his hair, kissing the top of Alec's head.

"I know," Alec replied, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against Magnus's shoulder, leaning into him.


	21. Business

Alec squinted up at the midday sun. He was the only one wearing a jacket. There wasn't much of a difference between his summer wardrobe and his fall and winter clothes.

He didn't want to be caught outside in a t-shirt if there was a breeze. Alec got cold quickly, shivering even in the sun. And so he hugged his jacket close to his body, Magnus watching him curiously while leaning against the wall.

It was different from the last time a portal was opened. Then, the atmosphere was so tense. They were all anxious about the days ahead. Alec was nervous around Magnus because he'd been ignoring his phone calls, and upset that he could stand there and joke when something was very obviously wrong.

But this time, it was a simple hand off. Maryse Lightwood was escorting the warlock, Daniel Wyrick, to Alicante, where he'd be passed into the custody of local shadowhunters at the Gard, and presumably imprisoned, awaiting trial. Alec came to make sure everything went smoothly. He hadn't seen Isabelle since she left the library. And he was fairly sure that Jace and Clary were still busy in the training room. Although you couldn't hear much from the hallway – it was designed that way, Alec felt sure Clary would need a break soon.

They shouldn't try to tackle too much, too soon. Training usually took place over years. Years of study, of lessons, of physical instruction, not to mention, building levels of experience. And Clary wanted to cram it all in as fast as she could process, just like she'd done with the Gray book. But she'd soon realize, it just couldn't be done. Patience and focus were one of the more important lessons a shadowhunter must learn, and hopefully Jace was imparting those on her too. Not just showing her his winning moves.

His mother rounded the side of the old cathedral, hand secure around the warlock's arm. Alec noted that his wrists were still bound. Maybe the rune was still working, but in addition, he could see the end of the rope he and Isabelle had used previously to make the crude restraints.

Daniel Wyrick's face had been wiped clean of the blood. And someone had loaned him the use of a shirt, covering the bandage across his chest. Alec was pleased to note he had done the right thing; even his mother obviously agreed – prisoner or not, he should be treated with care and respect. It was their compassion that separated them from demons, who didn't have the capacity to feel. Or to be lenient.

Well, and the fact that they weren't human in any way, even if they took the shape of one at times.

Alec couldn't help sneaking Magnus a glance. He had stepped away from the wall, straightening up. His dark wine-colored button-down billowed, puffed up by the breeze, the ends of the shirt picking up on the wind. Alec tried not to stare at the tanned, glittering skin of his stomach, but he couldn't help it. There always seemed to be an expanse of skin between Magnus's tight shirts and his low-waisted pants – as if he knew how distracting it was.

But Alec had admitted as much last night, hadn't he? He blushed at the memory. And Magnus was looking back at him, his eyes unreadable.

"Thank you for coming, Magnus," Maryse greeted. Alec was relieved that "Warlock Bane" never came up anymore, as a proper address for his boyfriend.

"I always come when I'm called," Magnus pointed out, although there was nothing sarcastic in it. Yes, this time was very different from the last. The warlock wasn't even rubbing it in, how much he should be charging for opening the portal. There was no point. Everyone knew by now that he was doing it for free, and exactly why that was the case.

Alec felt the strong compulsion to go stand by Magnus, to touch his arm or his hand. Just to be near him. It wasn't just a gesture of gratitude. It was a need, pure and simple, a need to be close. There was no reason to pretend anymore, and so it did seem a little ridiculous, the unnecessary feet separating them.

But he reconsidered. This was official business, not a reunion. Magnus was probably right to keep his distance. And maybe given their company - Alec was thinking of the warlock here, and not his mother - it might be for the best.

Alec pushed his hands inside his jacket pockets, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes, tickling and annoying. But he let it go.

Maryse was speaking to Magnus, their voices low and quiet. Alec thought perhaps he wasn't meant to hear it, though he strained to make out particular words. Damn the noise of the wind for cutting in. And his average hearing.

Magnus was nodding at something that his mother had said. Then he heard him say: "I have a suggestion."

Maryse Lightwood waited, listening.

Magnus's lips appeared to move without any sound, and then he snapped his fingers together. Alec was waiting for a piano to appear out of thin air. Or Daniel Wyrick to disappear. Instead, he sagged heavily into Maryse Lightwood's side, and she reflexively moved away, holding his arm and keeping him upright on his feet, but not wanting to be that close to a law-breaking Downworlder.

Alec couldn't blame her for that.

"Now you can travel without worry - although I wish you would let Alec go with you," Magnus said quietly. Alec lifted his head, eyes on Magnus. Is that what they were talking about? He would have gone with his mother without complaint. It was his duty, and Magnus was right. She wasn't transporting a harmless mundane. Even bound and gagged - and now apparently sleeping, Daniel Wyrick was still a warlock. No matter his age, he had already proven powerful enough to be a concern.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'll manage," Maryse replied, cutting him off. While she appreciated his help, Magnus Bane was still a warlock. His mother might as well have said 'leave the shadowhunting to me.'

Magnus backed down, bowing his head and moving away, preparing to focus his energy on opening the portal.

Alec waited, his hair whipping across his face, wondering why his mother was so dead-set on going alone. Why she hadn't even thought to ask him.

He prayed that Magnus's spell would last long enough for the hand-over to be complete, for Daniel Wyrick to pass into someone else's custody and become their responsibility. He was also relieved at the prospect. It was so much simpler sending demons back to their own dimension with the swipe of a seraph blade. It was over and done, and then they could return to the Institute to recuperate. But keeping a warlock in custody was so much more...nerve-wracking. Without the adrenaline of going into battle, or having the option to run if need be, it was intimidating and uncomfortable, and fortunately, almost at an end.

Alec crossed his arms over his chest as the wind picked up. The portal was open. Through squinted eyes, he watched as his mother passed through it, dragging along her limp charge. Black and red hair fused together and disappeared.

The portal closed. Magnus leaned heavily into the wall, looking tired. Alec felt sure he was, drained of the massive energy opening a portal required.

In the absence of the others, Alec did what he wanted to do earlier - closing the distance between them, and embracing the warlock. His warlock.

"It's over," he breathed against Magnus's cheek, kissing the warm, glittering skin there.

Those long arms casually looped around Alec, leaning gratefully into him. "Thank gawd. He was giving me the evil eye."

"Is that real?"

"Maybe. Gypsy magic," Magnus considered, smiling wearily. He kissed Alec's forehead. "Fortunately, we can't hurt anyone just from a glare, or I would have been bleeding on the stones, in agony."

"No," Alec replied. "I would have run him through again before he hurt you."

"Oh, tough guy," Magnus purred, nuzzling Alec's soft hair, pushing it back so he could kiss his brow.

"I am now," Alec teased, referring to the rune on his wrist. It was an overexaggeration, of course. He didn't feel all too different.

But it pleased Magnus that he could joke about it. And the shadowhunter was rewarded with a kiss for his chivalry.

Magnus leaned back into the cool wall, Alec stepping into place between his legs, tilting his chin upward and eagerly returning the kiss, his dark jacket protecting them both from the cooler breeze.


	22. Break

After sharing the sweet kiss in the garden, Magnus pulled back, breaking it off. Alec pursed his lips against Magnus's soft shirt, trying to regulate his breathing while Magnus rubbed his back through the jacket, oddly quiet.

"What is it?" Alec finally asked, feeling the tension in the rigid, uncharacteristic set of his shoulders.

"Why are all of you so epically stubborn?"

"What?" Alec asked, dazed. Sluggishly, he lifted his chin, glancing up at Magnus's face, while the warlock's eyes stared off into the distance.

"Maryse knows it's unsafe, and absurd to go alone. She should have asked someone to go with her. Jace or Isabelle, if not you."

"Why not me?" Alec asked, wanting to know why his mother seemed especially reluctant – no, resolute and determined not to ask him, even though he was the standing right there. The most obvious choice, in his view. Alec was the only one who hadn't run off to pursue his own agenda, while there was still work to be done. Even if Magnus had briefly tried to distract him.

Magnus didn't reply, jaw clenched as if with the effort to keep quiet.

"Magnus. Tell me." When the warlock didn't respond, Alec pulled back slightly. "What is it? Why is everyone acting so weird today? It's like something huge is going on, and I've suddenly turned into a pariah. Am I untrustworthy now, is that it?"

Alec stared beseechingly up at Magnus, wanting some explanation, some form of reassurance.

He didn't expect Magnus to be a mind-reader, to simultaneously know what was going on in his mother's head, in Isabelle and Jace and even Clary's minds, but he did know _something_. He was in on some secret. Didn't Alec have a right to know?

For all he knew, they had formed some kind of click and they were all talking about him – which sounded very high school (and he was thankful, for the umpteenth time, that he was able to forgo that mundane experience).

He frowned when Magnus continued to meet his questions with silence, although he noticed the change in his expression. Magnus's forehead was creased, and his eyes had softened, staring down at Alec with...what? Pity?

"And what does any of this have to do with you?" Alec pressed, though acknowledging it as a rhetorical question. Magnus wasn't going to give him a proper response. He did notice, however, that Magnus seemed to wince at the accusation.

"It's not your fault my mom is micromanaging, or my family thinks I've gone soft," Alec grumbled. That must be it. Clary thought he couldn't hack bringing in a warlock. Isabelle questioned his compassion like it was a weakness. And now his mother wouldn't let him do his job – would rather put herself at risk, because she didn't trust him to help in the situation.

Turning away from Magnus, Alec walked a few paces, looking for something to kick. A rock or a fallen tree branch. Or maybe the wall. The boots were pretty thick. Perfect for venting on hard inanimate objects.

_Crap_ and_ B.S._

And a string of other expletives he repeated silently in his mind, words – unlike Jace, no one was going to catch him uttering. But that's not to say his thoughts were pure. He was just better at restraint and reserve.

Alec did find an obliging piece of crunched metal (crushed soda can?) and he kicked it like it was meant to fly, enjoying the sound it made colliding with the wall. The scrape and splat.

He felt Magnus follow him, more than heard him move away from the wall. That sweet scent engulfed him a second before his arms slid around Alec, drawing him back. Alec arched away from his embrace, almost doubling over like he was going to be sick, but Magnus held on, trying to disarm his resistance with affection.

"Don't!" Alec hissed, twitching unpleasantly at each of the warlock's attempted kisses. They were hot, stinging, half-formed kisses against his hair, a few making it to the edge of his face.

"Don't be angry," Magnus sighed. Alec turned his cheek away stubbornly, frustrated. Maybe not so much with Magnus, so much as his family. But he was convinced the warlock knew something, and whatever it was, he wasn't telling. What happened to being honest with one another? The mutual promise ought to apply to other situations, not just runes and wounds.

When Alec didn't respond the way he'd hoped, Magnus tried another approach. "Your mother will probably be back soon. And the others won't be distracted forever. Now's our chance."

"For what?" Alec asked, sounding sulky.

"Why don't you show me your room?" Magnus suggested.

"You were just there," Alec reminded, making a face. "You let yourself in, remember? Long enough to see my bathroom and check out my closet." And bring his phone back from the dead.

"What else is there I might enjoy?"

"I don't have cable," Alec pointed out, figuring that ought to come as a great disappointment.

"You have a bed. Even if it is undersized."

"Yes…" Alec replied, sounding breathless again. And hating himself for losing the attitude he was working on, in favor of embarrassment. He was mad at the warlock for not being forthright with him. Not in any way amused or excited. Definitely not excited.

Magnus stroked his stomach through the thin material of his t-shirt. Alec shivered against him, sucking in a breath. _Stop it._

"Do you think it would fit the two of us?" _No…_

"I don't know."

"Let's go see," Magnus whispered against his ear.

- - -

"We only have a few minutes," Alec warned, tugging on Magnus's hand, leading him quickly inside the bedroom. Magnus shut the door, twisted his wrist, and the lock slid into place.

Even if Maryse took longer on her errand, his mother wasn't their only consideration. Alec figured Clary ought to be worn out by now. And Isabelle was still an unknown, somewhere in the Institute. That's four possibilities for interruptions, and with his luck, any or all of them would come inquiring after him soon.

Magnus went for his mouth without warning. Alec almost fell back, but the warlock's hand was there, cupping the back of his neck, unwilling to let him squirm away.

Alec closed his eyes, submitting to the insistent pressure of his mouth, angling his chin comfortably, trying to let his mind coast on autopilot.

_You're an idiot. You're supposed to be angry with him._

I am angry.

_So you fight with your tongue now?_

Umf. Alec's back hit the door, Magnus leaning him up against it, his hand tangled in Alec's windblown hair, while Alec's fingers dug into Magnus's shoulder. No, he couldn't concentrate on the anger, but the heat that had fueled his frustration, that restless energy, it was still there.

And it was finding an outlet. He couldn't remember kissing Magnus so hard before. It seemed like their mouths were fighting for dominance, because they just couldn't…seem to settle into one angle or another. They moved restlessly, teeth nipping, lower lips taking a lot of abuse, breath coming harshly in the short breaks in between rough kisses until Alec felt his mouth sliding down Magnus's chin, and realized the warlock had pulled back.

His lips were definitely red and swollen. Magnus's tongue touched his lower lip, and he quirked a brow. Was that a drop of blood he took away?

Alec stared up into those green-gold eyes, unrepentant, his chest rising and falling, thankful that the door was there for support. Magnus stared back at him for long seconds, his own breathing fast and loud. Then he turned his face away, distracted by something.

He was inspecting his shirt. Alec followed his glance down, realizing that he had ripped the soft fabric at the shoulder seam, caught up in the moment.

Magnus looked back at him, and Alec hiked up his chin as if to say _so? Casualty of war._

"It was Armani," Magnus supplied, trying to purse his lips, looking peeved. Alec couldn't help but snicker. His lips were uncommonly puffy.

"It's not funny. Do you know how much this shirt cost?"

"No?" Alec replied mockingly. Obviously, he didn't care about designer brands, or wasting money on something even more fragile than a plain cotton t-shirt. Retail: ten dollars. "But I can't imagine you actually paid for it."

"I'm insulted. You don't think I can afford it?"

"I think you probably snapped your way into that shirt."

"I waved my wrist."

"Big difference," Alec replied, dampening his lower lip.

"Fine. You've ruined my shirt. Can we call it a truce?"

"I thought this was all a ploy to keep from fighting."

"I was trying to make peace," Magnus replied, with a slight smile.

Alec's glance strayed to Magnus's abused mouth. "Sorry," he whispered. He didn't mean to hurt him. That is, he hadn't consciously intended to.

"Kiss and make it better?" Magnus proposed.

Alec rolled his eyes, muttering: "That's so—"

Umf. Magnus's mouth cut him off again, those warm fingers brushing his cheek. This time their lips met and relaxed into one another, soft and warm and moving in sync.

Until a knock vibrated against Alec's back, causing them both to stiffen.

* * *

Full Destiny: Thank you so much! I saw you added some alerts for the story, which always makes me so excited. Thank you for reading/enjoying! Your English was fine by me.

Romantic-Faerie: Thank you! I'm glad FF let you use multiple yay's without screening it;)

Some Things Don't Have To End: I've missed you and Charlotte -LOVE-! I was just starting to worry you'd died in some freak accident. It occurred to me that I hadn't heard from you in many moons (and many chapters), and that was odd. And having no other connection than these reviews, I was worried. But I appreciate the mass-reviewing! And please tell Charlotte that I miss her too, and -LOVE- her still, even in her absence (Hey, did you read my new story? Please make sure she gets to see it too!)

Katara-alchemist: Thank you. Like this chapter, I had to write it in parts, because I got half-way and ran out of steam. But it's so nice to come back to a chapter that was already half-written for you! Even if it's by you. Haha. I feel like I cheated.

Rachelle Thomas: Astute reader. But you're not getting any previews from me!

Jael Noir: Thank you! And I hope you're enjoying M.M. I need inspiration before attempting the next chapter.

MagnusSpark: Yeah, I smiled when I wrote it too. I can't seem to get away from that sticky sweet stuff. Sigh.

Londra B: Well, this is still my firstborn and my priority. The other stories are just...amusements. Side-projects. I'll always come back to the Call Me/Between Burroughs line.

CullensMyLife: Yeah, that wasn't planned, but I did think it was kind of cute. Assertive, protective Alec. Well, he's always protective of his family, but I thought it was about time Magnus nuzzled under his wing.

Taiyoukai89: And the suspense continues! Maybe next chapter?

lynxzpanther: Thank you for the review(s). Sorry to hear you were sick! All better now?

Isabel Chase: Thank you! I am trying for a natural progression, even if it seems ever-so-slow.

Awesomesauce123: Thank you, thank you. Having fun with your BFF this weekend?

JaBoyYa: Still interesting?

Lallie Owesome: Thank you!

OmgAdot: Thank you. It's harder not having a framework to play off of, and work within, but I'm trying to do more than smooch and joke.

tokiohotel824: Glad you liked it.

Why So Sirius: Thank you! That was one of my favorite parts too.

Alice-Brandon-Whitlock-Cullen: Thank you for following along!

xxgabigailxx: Thank you. That's right, you cheer on the characters.

Vixie Vii: Thank you!


	23. Bothered

"Alec?" It was Isabelle. Her voice broke on his name, the second knock sounding impatient. The raps were harder and faster in succession, pounding against Alec's stiff back.

Alec stared up into Magnus's eyes. The warlock frowned at the door, straightening up and taking a step back.

"I know you're in there. I can see movement underneath the door."

Sighing, Alec turned around and unlocked the door. Then it was being shoved in his face before he could open it, Isabelle pushing her way in.

"God, you're still here," she breathed, not looking at Alec at all, but up at Magnus. And with apparent relief. And then his sister was reaching out and taking hold of Magnus's arm, and surprisingly, Magnus let her jerk him back into the hallway without saying anything snappish (like "Mind the shirt!") or pulling out of her hard grip.

Isabelle was running with Magnus in tow, propelled by his wrist now, while Alec moved quickly after them, demanding to know what was going on.

"Izzy! Damnit, I'm not invisible. Tell me what's going—"

They were outside, rounding the side of the building where they had gathered earlier to open the portal. Jace was already there, kneeling over something on the ground. Dark pant legs, dark hair.

Mother.

Alec shoved ahead of the others, rounding to the other side to be with her. Jace had shoved up her sleeve and was in the process of drawing an iratze with his stele. Clary had her hand over her mouth, whether from the shock or to keep herself from getting upset (or sick).

Alec passed a critical eye over his mother, trying to remain calm. Her face was moist with sweat, her eyes fluttering open briefly, only to clench in pain. He didn't see anything on her arms or across her stomach. It wasn't until she jerked in pain that Alec realized it was her back.

It looked like puncture wounds, deep, red sores. There were at least four that he could see, but surrounding them, the skin was red and angry and heated. He could feel the heat trying to come off the surface of her skin, trying to cool down.

"Maryse," Magnus said in a gentle voice, his taller frame looming over both Alec and Jace even when on his knees.

"Warlock," his mother breathed harshly, one fist clenched.

Magnus didn't seem to take any apparent offense to the new-old address, chalking it off to the pain. "May I heal you?"

She swallowed, appeared to weigh the pros and cons - or maybe the principle of the thing, versus extended suffering, just like Alec had. Only his mother was smart enough to make the right decision, nodding slightly.

"Back up," Magnus instructed, shoving Jace out of the way - earning a glare for that bit of rudeness, and Alec got up on his own, taking a step back.

He watched while his mother shuddered beneath Magnus's glowing hands, heard her groan. He could well-imagine how the heat in her body intensified. It was always warm and electric when Magnus worked over him, and Alec felt the healing burn distinct of any pain he might be in. But afterward, it all went away, the warmth retreated and the pain disappeared.

And it was done in minutes, Magnus leaning heavily back on his heels. Maryse came unsteadily to her feet, shaking off Isabelle's attempt to grab her arm, but when Alec leaned into her, forcing her to accept his help by sliding his arm around her waist, she merely frowned.

"I'm fine."

"Then just take a moment," Alec advised, studying her face. She was flushed, and she looked tired. Alec realized there were small bruises along her neck he hadn't noticed before. And was there some injury to her arm, prior to Jace drawing the iratze?

Maryse looked down at the still-kneeling warlock. Magnus must have felt awkward, because he got up and brushed the grass from his pants, trying not to wince in displeasure at another ruined article of clothing.

"Thank you," his mother said.

"I'm glad you're well."

Maryse nodded a little, lips pursed. "I'm going to lie down."

"Do you need anything else?" Magnus offered, walking alongside them as Alec shifted with her, heading back towards the building.

"Not from you," Maryse replied, and Alec sucked in a breath and shot her a look of surprise. Magnus had just healed her. Magnus was a good friend to all of them, not to mention his boyfriend.

But Magnus simply nodded, his face bland. "Then I better rub off. Busy day."

Alec turned to look back for him over his shoulder, but Magnus's tall, dark figure was already heading through the gate, his ruined shirt caught up by the breeze.

"I can walk on my own," his mother pointed out. Short of forcing him to back off, however, Alec assisted her the rest of the way, deciding not to bring up what had just happened, her injuries, her behavior, not until she was ready to talk.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Alec demanded, finding the others in the sitting room. Jace was sprawled across a couch, Isabelle sat stiffly in an armchair. And Clary was perched on the arm of the couch Jace monopolized, still looking upset. He had to remind himself with as much (or as little) experience as she had of battle wounds - some of it firsthand, it was still natural to be bothered by the sight of them. It would take time to harden her heart to stuff like that. Or maybe she'd always look a little sick at the sight of a wound. In which case, that could be a problem.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jace drawled, rubbing his temple. He was still in his gear, although he'd pulled his hair back, wisps of it wet and plastered to the sides of his face. Must have been quite the training session.

"Do I always ask obvious questions?" Alec retorted.

"Sometimes," Jace replied, although he wasn't looking for a fight.

Alec frowned, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him. Then in a low tone, he asked again: "What do you know?"

"She came back through a portal. She was unconscious at that point, and I couldn't wake her up. Clary wanted to try something out - I decided we weren't experimenting on Maryse, and I drew the iratze. I don't know if she woke up from the rune or the pressure of the stele, but you know the rest."

"And before that? Did she say anything?"

"No, courtesy of being unconscious. What were we just saying about obvious questions?"

Alec grimaced, getting up. "Then what do we think happened?"

"Well, let's see. She was taking a dangerous criminal to the Gard, alone. We tried to kill the warlock, so I'm guessing shadowhunters still aren't big on his Christmas list."

"So you think he did this?" Alec pressed - and if Jace mocked him for asking the question, by the Angel, he would--

"The burn on her back," Isabelle finally spoke up. "I counted four." Alec nodded; he had seen it. "They looked like puncture wounds, but they gave off heat like burns. That's what it felt like on my shoulder. Do you think the warlock threw those fire-bolts at her up close?"

Alec considered. It would make sense. "Possibly. But they were on her back."

"So?"

"If they were fighting, he would have wounded her face-on."

"Maybe she was running away," Clary suggested.

Alec, Isabelle, and Jace all shot her the same glare at the suggestion. Maryse Lightwood, retreating from a fight? Even an one-woman battle with a warlock? It was an offensive accusation to lay on any shadowhunter.

Clary blinked, and her small shoulders hunched, but she still continued her line of thought. "Maybe he caught her by surprise. We all thought he was under control, right? With the binding and the fact that he was hurt. He probably caught her off guard, attacked her, and self-preservation kicked in. Did she even have a weapon on her?"

"A seraph blade, and her stele," Alec provided, remembering that much from earlier.

"She didn't have the blade on her when she got back," Jace considered. "But I used her stele to draw the iratze."

"So she used the blade on the warlock, but it wasn't enough. So unarmed, she tried to run," Clary was still hypothesizing.

"And the portal?" Isabelle pointed out. Shadowhunters didn't open portals, and Magnus had only been called in after she'd appeared.

"I don't know," Clary replied honestly, looking troubled.

"We'll talk to her about it later. I'll send a fire message to the Gard, and ask if Daniel Wyrick was safely handed over."

"You already know the answer," Jace sighed, looking tired.

"Then I'll have an official reply on paper and we can come up with a plan!" Alec snapped. "We started this. If he's not in custody in Alicante, then we'll deal with it. We'll finish the job. Or did you forget we still have a job to do?"

Jace rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn't even worth arguing over. Besides, it's not like everyone in the room wasn't aware who'd come out on top in the fight. Figuratively speaking.

"Well, do I have time to take a shower before we get back to fighting the good fight?" Jace drawled, getting up and stretching, bones popping.

Alec waved him away in irritation. He was vaguely aware of Clary quietly leaving the room as well.


	24. Brother

"Alec."

Isabelle had waited a while in silence, hoping he would say something. A minute was torture.

"What?" he replied, sitting in the center of the vacated couch, sinking between two cushions – either of which would have afforded more comfort than the valley between them. But Alec didn't seem to notice, his head in his hands, his eyes closed.

"Are you OK?"

"I don't know. Do you care?"

"Don't be an asshole."

Alec lifted his head and stared at her. She stared back, unflinching.

"What's going on?"

"You tell me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked angrily, folding her arms beneath her chest. "Do you think I know what happened in Idris? Because I have an invisibility cloak," she replied with sarcasm.

Clearly Alec didn't get the HP reference. He made a face and looked away from her again.

"Only mom knows that," Alec agreed. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, then tell me. What's really bothering you, if it's not what happened to mom?"

"That's just part of it," Alec sighed, pushing his hand back through his messy hair, tugging on the knots in his irritation, ignoring the shooting pain it sent to his scalp.

"OK…?" she prompted, waiting.

"I feel like…everything has been off since I woke up this morning." He wasn't referring to almost setting Magnus's kitchen on fire. "You were pissed at me when I got back. You wouldn't tell me what we were doing in Queens. It's like none of you wanted me to know what was really going on. Then this thing with mom. I could have been there with her, and none of this would have happened. I wanted to go with her. I should have been there. Magnus even threw it out there, and she wouldn't even listen.

"And now she's back to treating him like crap, and I feel like he's only being so nice about it because he knows something is up, and I don't have a clue what's going on. I'm tired of asking everyone what's wrong and getting that stupid silent stare like I'm going crazy."

_Maybe I am_, he silently added at the end of the frustrated rant, pulling on his hair.

He flinched when Isabelle touched his arm. He hadn't realized she'd taken a seat beside him on the couch.

"You're not crazy," she spoke quietly. Alec wouldn't look at her, but he eased up on his scalp.

"Maybe a little paranoid," Isabelle conceded, and this time he did shoot her a look, which made her smirk.

"Nothing's going on," she said slowly, deliberately, hoping he would trust that it was the truth. He was looking at her face skeptically. "We're all…just a little weirded out, I guess. It's not like it used to be. You, me, and Jace. There's Clary to consider – and you splitting your time between here and Magnus's place." Alec's forehead wrinkled – it was just one night, so far. Unless she was adding the time they'd shared in Alicante to the list. But that didn't mean it had become a regular thing.

"I just don't think we're focused, and look what happened. We're 0 for 2, isn't that how you say it?"

She was asking the wrong person for a sports reference. Alec shrugged. "You got hurt in the park. And today, I barely got in the door and Jace was frozen. You had to save the day – and I'm not saying you aren't capable, Alec, and good job and everything, but our balance is totally off. Don't you feel that?"

Alec considered for a moment, frowning, and finally conceding with a nod.

"So don't think the whole world is against you, just because we're off today," Isabelle added. "We're all acting weird because our minds are scattered between people, between different priorities, between burroughs." Alec twitched, looking down at his hands. "We've got to find a way to regroup so nobody else has to get needlessly hurt and we can just get the job done. Like we used to. I mean, taking out a warlock shouldn't be the biggest obstacle we've yet to face."

"True. Not when you consider our track record this summer," Alec added dryly. A horde of Greater Demons, protecting and restoring Idris. Valentine.

"Yeah. We're famous," she tried to joke, lip twitching.

"Shouldn't we be chased by cameras, and living the life of luxury?"

"We've got demons and the run of the Institute."

"Awesome. And who wouldn't envy that?"

"Who, indeed?"

The Lightwoods laughed a little. It was fragile and soft, but afterward they bumped shoulders and quieted down again.

Alec couldn't help frowning. Isabelle sighed.

"What?"

"So you're not keeping anything from me?" Alec asked one more time, looking up from beneath his lashes.

"No. All that stuff earlier, I already explained. We just weren't sure if you'd be ready to get back into the game, after your back and everything. And the fact that it was a warlock—"

"Was completely fine. I handled it."

"Yeah. I saw that. And I think you shocked the pants off Jace, too. He's too proud to admit it, but I'm sure he'd say you did good. And don't be surprised if he invites you to their next training session. That way he can show off for Clary and get a chance to beat you into the ground."

"And reclaim his rightful place?"

"Let him have it," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes. "Believe me, it'll be easier on everyone if he gets to keep pretending he's the big man on campus."

"I don't care about that."

"Exactly."

"I'm not going to let him win, if he does ask."

"You could always ask Magnus to mark you again."

"You heard that?" Alec gasped. It was the only explanation for how she knew, and so quickly.

"Yep. I was trying to read and I heard you arguing."

"And you couldn't have tried not to listen?"

"OK, I wasn't _trying_ to listen, but I couldn't hear myself think, so I figured it was either break it up or wait it out. You know you give in way too easy."

"Shut up."

"He's not going to respect you – or start taking your anger seriously if you punk out every time he kisses you."

"I didn't," Alec replied, scooting over to the next cushion so he could twist and glare at her. "We talked it through."

"And the kissing came after you made up?"

"How do you know there was kissing involved?" He asked incredulously, fists clenched.

"Hm. Let me see. Because I could hear your lips smacking, and you went like ten minutes without saying anything. And then I distinctly heard someone moan—"

"OK. I get it!" Alec threw his hands up, getting up from the couch. "I'm not inviting him over anymore."

"It's fine, Alec. Kissing is like a barometer for a healthy relationship. If you didn't spend half your time together tongue-tied, then something is wrong. And it's probably twice as true in a gay relationship, because you guys think about sex twice as much—"

"I'M WALKING AWAY NOW!" Alec called loudly, trying to blot out the sound of her voice, heading for his room.

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you!" she added, just to torment him. He heard her laugh as he fled down the hall, heading for his room.


	25. Brazen

"Alec?"

He stopped short, red-faced. He was standing in front of the slightly open door to his parents' room - a place that was locked up most of the time. They were away from home so often, especially since Alec and Jace and Isabelle had reached an age where they could take calls on their own.

Alec turned to face the door warily, not wanting to step any closer without an invitation to do so.

"Is that you?"

"Yes, mother."

"Come in, then, and close the door."

Bowing his head, Alec swallowed reflexively and took a decisive step closer, pushing the door open the rest of the way with his fingertips.

Maryse Lightwood sat in the center of her bed, wearing a flimsy cotton nightgown he always imagined women her age would wear to bed. Alec just didn't figure it was the kind of thing his mom would wear. Come to think of it, if he had to guess how she slept, it would be fully clothed, or in her gear. She just didn't come across as the nightgown type.

And yet there she was, late afternoon, wearing her thin nightgown and wrapped up in a blanket. She looked so...vulnerable, he didn't know what to do. He hesitated in the doorway, not sure if she wanted to talk, or needed him to get her something.

It couldn't be this strange for most children to relate to their parents. Maybe it was different for mundie children, who had a proper childhood - who saw their parents as a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to, or someone to tell them bedtime stories. But their relationship wasn't like that, hadn't been like that for a while. Maryse Lightwood was his mentor, someone he wanted to impress, someone whose approval he constantly sought. She was more a boss and an overseer than a caregiver, and he was fine with that. For the most part.

"Would you like to sit down?" She wasn't gesturing to the edge of her bed, but to a nearby chair. Alec moved automatically, sitting on the edge of the chair.

She had pulled her hair back, the darkening bruises more noticeable now against her pale throat. Alec wondered again how she had come about them. The need to know what had happened was pressing in on him, suffocating him - why was she dragging this out? There was very likely a warlock on the loose, and if she would just let him know what had happened, he and the others could get to work locating and apprehending him. Again.

"Alec," Maryse sighed, touching her palm to her forehead, pushing her hand back slowly, dragging it across her smooth hair wearily. "There's something I want you to do."

"Anything. Just tell me what you need."

"I sent Robert a message. He should be back within the hour. I just want to lay down for a little while. Would you make sure everyone is quiet so that I can rest?"

"Of course," Alec softly replied, surprised by her request. "Is that all?" He moved to stand up, meaning to let her rest, but she reached out to stop him.

"No, give me a minute."

Alec sat back down, looking from the perfectly made bed she sat on top of, to the seam of her nightgown, back up to the plain, knit blanket she'd gathered around her shoulders. Her eyes looked tired, but still had that intimidating, ever-alert look that kept him on edge. Like his mother knew every thought in his head. He always had that feeling when she looked at him. But maybe it was just because that stare made him feel guilty or stupid, feeling the weight of his faults. He couldn't hide anything from her.

"I want to apologize."

Shock again. Even stronger this time. Alec blinked and stared, and blinked again, uncomfortable heat infusing his face.

"I'm too old to behave like a child. Impulsive, reckless, foolish. I thought I exhausted that kind of immaturity in my youth. But apparently not." She sighed, tugging the blanket closer. "The decision I made was all of these things. A very juvenile mistake. And because I made the wrong choice, a criminal has escaped and I failed at a very simple task."

"Mother--"

"No. Let me speak," she said in a low tone, cutting him off. Her glance flickered up at him, then down at her hands, her fingers playing with the fabric of the nightgown as if it interested her.

"I was proud. I let my children handle the capture, and the binding. I thought the least I could do was hand him over to the Clave. I could feel your objection. I knew you thought it was unwise, but you respected my decision - foolish though it was. Magnus, on the other hand, came right out and said it. Your...boyfriend thinks he can advise me on how to do my job."

Alec blushed, glancing down at his hands self-consciously.

"He was right. Impertinent and brazen, but it was the right advise to give and I should have listened."

Alec continued to stare at his hands, with a nervous swallow.

"You shouldn't be afraid to advise me on Clave matters, Alec." He glanced up when his mother addressed him by name. "You're an adult now. Even if what you're thinking may be wrong, or it may not have any bearing on the decision to be made, you have every right to share your thoughts. I hear you argue quite forcefully with Isabelle and Jace all the time."

He blushed harder, and tried to shrug. "I have to, just to be heard."

"And you're not afraid if they disagree. Or disapprove. You need to find the same strength to speak with your elders, not just your peers."

"But I trust you, and I really believe...have always believed you know what's best," Alec admitted.

"But clearly that's not the case," she replied, staring at him - trying to make her point, while salvaging some of her dignity.

Alec nodded slowly, accepting this. "Then I'll try to speak up next time."

"And I might only veto you. But you also might make a difference."

Alec nodded again. And that was his hope.

"I'm tired. You can go now."

Alec hesitated. He wanted to ask her about Magnus...why she had dismissed him so rudely earlier, what had changed? True, she had just been attacked by a warlock, but that rogue, dangerous criminal was nothing like Magnus. Surely she could see that.

But he wasn't sure if the open line of communication she'd just coached him on applied to personal, as well as business matters. He doubted it, knowing his mother.

And what about Daniel Wyrick? Is that why his father was coming back? So the two of them could set out again to Idris?

Maryse rolled over onto her side, beneath the blanket (and still above the sheets), and Alec got up quietly, moving across the room to switch off the light and step out into the hallway before closing the door.

* * *

Alec drew his knees up in bed, having removed his boots and the jacket.

He could hear Isabelle laughing throgh the walls, realized she was talking to someone on her cell. He wanted to beat his head against the wall. He knew the Institute had really good accoustics. Their bedrooms weren't spaced far enough apart to let something like an argument, or even kissing go unnoticed. He should have taken that into account.

Or maybe he should be a vindictive bastard and listen in on her conversation, and use it as ammunition later.

No, that was childish and he didn't care about her conversation. A happy Isabelle was an easier Isabelle to work with. So let her chat it up with whoever the boy of the moment was. What was it this time? A broad-shouldered werewolf? A faerie with green hair? Not a vampire - not at this hour.

What were the odds of her actually seeing a mundie? Slim to none. Where's the excitement in that?

Alec didn't want to believe he saw it that way - but when he thought about, was he so different from Isabelle and her compulsive need to date Downworlders?

Magnus was a warlock, obviously. But more than that, he was extremely tall and glittery and loud and "brazen," to use his mother's word. He was about as far from a mundane as you could get, and while Alec would never be any of these things, he was attracted to Magnus as a polar opposite.

If he had been more reserved, or didn't shine in or out of the sun - if he didn't wear all of the colors in the crayon box (64 pack) or smell so irresistably sweet, would Alec feel the same pull? Would he have been grown bored and moved on?

No. He loved Magnus. These things didn't keep him, they just made it alot more interesting.

Smiling a little, Alec reached over for the charger chord, reeling it in so he could grab his phone. Unplugging it, he flipped it open.

Text or call? Magnus had said he was busy. So, no point interrupting him with a call.

Alec opened a text window.

_Sorry I didn't get to see you out. Make amends tonight? _

Holding his breath, he clicked send.

His phone buzzed a minute later, new message received.

Magnus:  
You better. You've still got to make up for the shirt, as well.

Alec:  
Oh, right. Well...what if I'm not really sorry about that?

Magnus:  
Excuse me?

Alec:  
You shouldn't be wearing Armani (?) to work anyway. That's your problem.

Magnus:  
I wasn't working when the shirt was destroyed. My insurance doesn't cover passionate forays with shadowhunters.

Alec:  
You insure your clothes?

Magnus:  
Up to 40,000. Personal liability. You'd be stupid not to, in New York.

Alec:  
Are you serious?

Magnus:  
I'll show you the paperwork, if you're really interested. So, are you coming over tonight?

Alec:  
If we don't get a call, yes. What time?

Magnus:  
Whenever you can break away.

Alec:  
OK.

Magnus:  
And darling?

Alec:  
Yes?

Magnus:  
You will pay for the shirt. One way or another.

Alec:  
I'm not afraid of you, _Downworlder_.

Magnus:  
Oh, you want to roleplay? Sounds fun. You come in your gear, and I'll work on the perfect outfit.

Alec:

...?

Magnus:  
LOL. I'm so excited. Do you want to break into my apartment? I'll pretend to be up to no good in my bedroom.

Alec:  
Ummm...

Magnus:  
Kick down the door. Just try not to let the cat out.

Alec:  
What are you talking about?

Magnus:  
Don't worry about it, darling. I'll be ready for you.

Alec:  
K. See you later.

Magnus:  
Don't disappoint.

Alec:  
I'll be there.

Magnus:  
I'll be waiting.


	26. Brief

"What does yours say?"

Clary pursed her lips, folding her fortune in on itself and hiding it behind one hand. "Aren't we supposed to keep it a secret? Otherwise it might not come true."

"That's a load of bull. What would it matter?" Jace asked, with a snicker.

"More to the point, they're just a bunch of cookie cutter sayings printed out again and again and distributed to the masses. They don't mean anything to anyone in particular. It's just the luck of the draw, as to which one you happen to get. And don't they all seem to say the same thing?" It was a fairly long dissertation for Isabelle, and Alec choked on a too-big bite of fortune cookie.

"Mine sounded right," he pointed out, after clearing his throat.

"Let me see it," Jace said, holding out his hand. Clary gave Alec a look of warning, clearly not ready to abandon her superstition. But Alec picked up the small slip of paper and slid it over, before taking a swig of soda to soothe his throat.

"Hot warlock action in store for you, young warrior," Jace 'read' from the slip, causing Alec to choke on soda as well. Isabelle laughed, and while Clary smacked Jace's arm playfully, she couldn't help but smile a little.

"Shut up," Alec croaked snatching the fortune back. "That's not what it says."

"What does it say?" Isabelle asked, picking apart the rest of her eggroll.

"Our greatest battles are that with our own minds," Alec read, shooting Jace a look. Would that have been so hard?

"That's deep," Clary replied, clearly trying to process it.

"That's depressing," Jace drawled, cracking his fortune cookie open just to get to the slip of paper. He wasn't planning on eating it.

"What about yours?" Clary asked, trying to lean in and take a peek. He jerked his hand away, tsking.

"Bad luck, remember? I want to keep this one."

Clary made a face, sitting back in her chair. "Fine. Then I won't tell you mine."

"Fair enough."

"I'm full," Isabelle announced, pushing her plate further away as if the remaining food offended her.

"Me too," Alec agreed, swirling the last of his soda.

"I'm tired," Clary yawned, stretching her small arms over her head.

"That was good," Alec commented belatedly. It was a nice meal. And he also liked the conversation, being able to just sit down with the rest of the family and relax. It was great that they could still do that.

It allowed them to forget for the moment that mom and dad were in Alicante hunting a rogue warlock, to recoup from a long day of training and fighting and tension that had been building between them. It seemed to have resolved now, though. If they could sit around and joke about their futures, then everything must be OK again.

"I love MSG," Jace teased, licking his lower lip, tasting soy sauce.

"MSG?" Alec inquired, brow creased.

"I don't know what it stands for, but I sure it'll give you cancer."

"Everything gives you cancer now," Isabelle retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Cell phones, microwaves, tap water," Clary considered, rattling off the things she'd read in school.

"Cell phones give you cancer?" Alec replied, sounding concerned.

"That's just a theory," Isabelle mused. "I'm sure there's lots of evidence for both sides. And it's not going to stop me from using mine."

"I need to call my mom," Clary remembered, reaching for her cell and getting up.

"I'm going to take a shower," Isabelle decided. All this talk of cancer made her feel dirty. She needed to exfoliate.

Jace didn't bother explaining where he was going, just got up, pushed his chair back and headed off with one of the unopened sodas.

Alec stared at the vacated table for a minute, planning his next move. It was only eight o'clock. Magnus had said to come over anytime, but he probably figured Alec wouldn't be able to "break away" until ten or eleven at the earliest. He always came over late.

What if he was still busy? What if he had company?

_What are you going to do, if not? Wait around here for several hours and try not to fall asleep? There's no point in that._

Alec had to agree with his inner voice. It was go now, or not tonight. And he had promised Magnus he would come over.

So he pushed back his chair and headed for his room, just long enough to grab his cell, his keys, his stele, and his coat.

* * *


	27. Baggage

Alec paused at the bottom of the stairwell, experiencing a sickening feeling of déjà vu.

The steps were stained, spotted and slashed erratically with some dark, sticky substance. It didn't look like blood. It didn't smell like blood. But he couldn't be sure. And he wasn't feeling bold enough to touch his finger to it and then taste. He could be terribly wrong.

It could be chocolate. Or it could be demonic slime. Who's to say, heading up to or down from a warlock's flat?

Alec proceeded with caution, concern and worry warring with interest and curiosity. He wasn't sure what to feel, not until he'd reached the top of the creaking stairs and saw the familiar scrawl across the front door, Magnus's neat handwriting emblazoned in floating gold letters what looked like an inch from the wood of the door. It was hovering over the door, not drawn on it.

"Kick the door in," it read.

Alec remembered that much from the previous text message. Magnus had joked about it.

Was this supposed to be some sort of game? If so, why did it require having to break and enter into his apartment? Alec didn't understand.

Frowning, Alec lifted his wrist, not his foot, and turned the knob, not surprised to find the door unlocked. Quietly, he stepped into the loft, shutting the door behind him and setting the lock. He shouldn't leave it open like that. How could he be sure Alec would be the next one at the door?

The shadowhunter reached for the light switch, not able to see in the dark. But hovering over the switch were the words: "Leave it."

Well, what was he supposed to do, then? Feel around in the dark? Fortunately, the loft was a large empty space, but there was still Chairman Meow to consider. He didn't want to step on his cat. Or trip over any unforeseen debris. Magnus was far from tidy. Alec had no idea what kind of unexpected obstacles he might encounter along the way, as he tried to navigate through his apartment.

What if there were other messages waiting for him around the apartment? Both of them had given off a slight golden glow. Squinting, Alec surveyed the room for any sign of the next note, while slowly moving forward.

There was another one in the kitchen. "Feed the cat," it read, and Alec smiled, shaking his head. Chairman Meow was lounging on the cool floor, not far from where the empty bowl had been left. Surprisingly, there was a bag of dry cat food on the counter. Magnus must be getting lazy, tired of conjuring every meal.

Opening the bag, Alec poured a little in the bowl. Chairman Meow sprung up and went for the food ravenously, purring as he ate.

Next stop, bedroom. Alec stopped outside Magnus's door, expecting yet another message. But there wasn't a note. Looking back over his shoulder, he checked the bathroom door. No note there either. Hm. What was he supposed to do then?

There was movement inside the bedroom. Alec could see a sliver of light beneath the door. Magnus was definitely inside. Lifting his hand, he decided for a more conventional approach and knocked.

He distinctly heard the warlock curse.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon!" Magnus lamented from behind the door. Alec couldn't help but smile again. So he _was_ planning something. He didn't have enough time to finish setting up his magic trail of messages before Alec arrived.

"I can come back?" Alec offered, turning sideways as if to go.

"No, no, don't be silly." The bedroom door flew open, Magnus looming in the doorway. Alec had to pan up a few more inches in order to look into his eyes.

Magnus was dressed entirely in black. Impossibly tight black leather pants, black boots, black belt hugging his hips, form-fitting black long-sleeve shirt, black choker. Even his makeup was dark, the charcoal rings heavy around his eyes. His skin looked unnaturally pale, but that could just be from the darkness in the hallway.

His lips were the only soft bit of color, a natural pink. He grinned slowly beneath Alec's perusal of his "outfit".

"Like it?"

"It's…different."

"I was trying to think 'evil warlock'. I guess I could have gone cliché and thrown on a back robe of some sort and some face paint, but this was more realistic. Plus, I know shadowhunters have a thing for leather, so I thought you might like it."

Alec couldn't think of a response. From his experience today, 'evil warlocks' didn't dress any different than the good. The crazy look in his eyes and the fact that he killed people was the only thing that gave it away. But Magnus did look nice in the leather. He always did. Alec just wasn't sure if he liked the total absence of color on Magnus. It just seemed so…_wrong_.

"You like the pants," Magnus decided, watching his face. Alec nodded, his face warm.

Magnus chuckled, turning around so he could get a view from the back. "I can't even tell you what kind of magic it took to get into them."

"What's the occasion?"

Magnus blinked. "What?"

"Why are you doing all this? The messages, the outfit…"

"Weren't we going to play?"

Alec blushed, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I wasn't sure what you were talking about."

"Why didn't you ask?"

"I figured…you were probably kidding anyway, so it wasn't important."

Magnus laughed, his hand suddenly tugging on Alec's wrist, guiding him into the bedroom. "Well, then it's very lucky you came early. Otherwise, I've no idea what you would have walked into. I was still planning that part."

Alec was looking around the room. The curtains, the bedspread, both had changed drastically. The rainbow and canary yellow had been exchanged for black. Magnus had gone to a lot of effort for this.

"You still don't have a clue, do you?"

Alec shook his head, sliding his hands uncomfortably into his pockets.

"Do you remember what I wrote earlier?"

Alec nodded.

"I was going to play an evil warlock laying in wait in the bedroom for the unsuspecting shadowhunter. I was going to let you take me by surprise over a book, or maybe launch an attack when you opened the door. And then there'd be a struggle, obviously – although I guess we should have worked out a safe word before hand. Hm." Magnus paused for a second, and shrugged. Moot point now, since Alec was here.

"And of course, the struggle would be a massive turn-on and then we'd start making out and ultimately, I'd have to surrender. I have a pair of cuffs in the bottom drawer. I wasn't sure if you brought any."

Alec's face had slowly changed while listening to Magnus speak. It had gone through various stages: shock, embarrassment, anger, and finally disbelief again. So it was…some kind of sex game?

How could Magnus even joke about something like that, when Alec had spent the good part of his day seriously trying to apprehend a rogue warlock? The real Daniel Wyrick was out there, hopefully being taken in by his parents, but he hadn't heard back from them yet.

And what if he hadn't realized that Magnus was just playing? If he'd started throwing energy at Alec when he came through the door – well, he was sure Magnus wouldn't really hurt him, but still, having those blue flames aimed roughly near him, Alec had no idea how he would react. Defensively, probably. He could have hurt Magnus, and then the game would be over.

Maybe more than just the game could have been ruined.

"What's wrong?" Magnus asked, picking up on yet another shift in Alec's expression. His jaw had gone tight.

"I'm glad I came in time to stop you."

"Ohh, that's another good one. Stop me from what?" Magnus purred.

"This isn't a game. I could have seriously hurt you."

Magnus reached out to touch him, and Alec moved away. "I'm serious, Magnus. I hate the thought – especially after this day. You're nothing like that guy, and I don't even want to pretend that you could be."

"Alec," Magnus said softly, reaching out for his face this time. Knowing what was coming, and remembering what Isabelle had said about him punking out everytime Magnus kissed him, Alec jerked away again and put some distance between them, moving across the room.

"I know that's not what you had in mind, but I can't enjoy something like that," Alec explained, pushing a hand back through his hair. "It's not…exciting, what we do. It's not a "turn-on" to kill demons or having to mortally injure Downworlders who have broken the law."

"Maybe it is to Jace," Magnus replied. Alec didn't argue. He did seem to enjoy it sometimes, especially after a bad day. But that was just Jace, looking for more trouble to get into in order to forget his own problems.

"It's fine if you want to dress up and leave me notes on the wall. I don't even mind feeding Chairman Meow. I just don't want to pretend you're the next bad guy I have to come after."

"OK," Magnus replied, in the same soft, soothing tone. Alec closed his eyes, expecting the warlock's lanky arms to appear out of nowhere, or his warm hand to touch his back. But he couldn't feel Magnus's heat or breathe in that sweet smell he gave off. He was too far away.

"I'm sorry," Alec apologized, feeling uncomfortable in the silence that followed. And he did kind of feel bad for ruining Magnus's fun. Obviously he hadn't forseen Alec being bothered by the game. Maybe a normal, well-adjusted boyfriend wouldn't care. He'd pounce at the opportunity to be with Magnus, to play with him. Someone who had a sense of humor. Someone more like Magnus.

Alec sighed, lifting his head. He realized the curtains had changed back - vibrant, rainbow color staring him in the face. Glancing to the side, he noted the canary yellow comforter was back as well. There was no explanation for the quick, effortless change except that it must have been a glamor.

"It's fine," Magnus finally replied. Alec turned around in time to see him light the end of a long cigarette, exhaling blue smoke in a controlled stream.

"Are we OK?" Alec asked, feeling his brows tug together in concern.

"We're great," Magnus replied, exhaling through his nose this time. Stooping to untie the laces on his boots, Magnus removed one, and then the other, managing it one-handed. Then he climbed up into bed with his cigarette, flicking ash into his palm. Of course, the ash promptly disappeared. No need for an ash tray.

Alec continued to stare at him, troubled. His tone wasn't very convincing, or his demeanor. He was too distant. Magnus seemed almost bored.

"Look, should I just avoid the awkwardness and go?"

"Do you have a hot date waiting for you?"

"I did. But I think I disappointed him."

"Hardly. You didn't stand him up, did you?"

"No, but I ruined his plans for the evening."

"Then I guess you'll have to make up for it, then, won't you? A sweet gesture would help." Another plume of blue smoke, those feline eyes watching him steadily.

"What do you think I should do?" Alec asked, voice gone soft. He touched his tongue to his lower lip, self-conscious.

"Take your coat off. And your boots. And come here."

Smiling with relief, Alec shrugged out of his coat, setting it aside. Then tugged his boots off, moving towards the end of the bed and climbing up. Magnus lost the cigarette, sending one more stream of smoke to the side before reaching for the shadowhunter, pulling him in the rest of the way by his hands.

"Hi," Magnus greeted. Were they starting the whole thing over? Alec wouldn't mind.

"Hello," Alec replied, his face so close to Magnus's. They stared into each others' eyes for a few seconds, then Alec shifted closer, leaning up on his knees. Magnus lowered his head until their mouths met and melded together.


	28. Blush

"Stop," Alec insisted, glaring down at the warlock.

Magnus smiled up at the irritated shadowhunter, running his nails down the length of Alec's spine through the thin material of his t-shirt, causing him to shiver. "What?"

"You know what," Alec said firmly, two seconds away from grabbing his hand. He just knew it was coming.

"Are you ticklish?" Magnus asked, his tone playful – as if he hadn't just discovered the truth for himself. He wanted Alec to admit it - making someone admit it is half the fun.

"No," Alec replied, pushing up with his hands and moving off of Magnus. But then those long fingers moved down again, this time slipping inside Alec's shirt in order to tickle his side. The warlock's teasing fingertips against bare skin made it that much worse.

"No!" Alec repeated, squirming away. But Magnus didn't relent.

"Magnus!" he gasped, squinching his eyes shut. "I MEAN IT!" Alec shrieked, trying to roll away as Magnus found yet another sensitive spot - the inside of his arm, a couple inches up from his elbow where the skin felt surprisingly soft and smooth.

"I don't believe it," Magnus drawled, rising up with one knee pressing between Alec's, suspended above him and tickling his stomach while Alec twisted and protested, unable to focus. He must be very ticklish; otherwise, he could have thrown the warlock off with ease. "A ticklish shadowhunter."

As much as they self-mutilated with their steles, they ought not to have a sensitive spot anywhere on their body. It was kind of endearing to think that Alec could be undone with a tickling touch, but not bothered by a sharp, burning drawing utensil.

So Alec was sensitive, in spite of the abundance of scars and Marks.

"I'm serious!" Alec cried, trying to make a desperate grab for Magnus's wrists. After a few seconds he did manage to encircle them, holding on tight.

Magnus merely smiled down at him, watching Alec continue to twist and thrash against the sheets, arching against invisible tickling fingers. To be fair, he only focused on one place at the time. The muscles in Alec's arms trembled, and he arched his back off the bed, very red in the face.

"STOP!" He demanded.

This time Magnus gave in, ending the spell.

Alec was breathing heavily, opening his watery eyes and glaring at the warlock.

"You asshole!" he growled, releasing his wrists. It looked like he wanted to punch Magnus. Or throw him down and kick him. Whatever the case, Alec refrained, sitting up and tugging his rumpled shirt down, trying to look angry and serious, while dabbing at unshed tears - and radiating heat. It was part-embarrassment, part from the struggle.

Alec was still shaking, running a restless hand back through his mussed hair. Magnus tried to appear contrite, watching the shadowhunter's attempt to recover and regroup.

"Should I say I'm sorry?"

"No!" Alec replied, incredulous. His voice quivered. "I know you don't mean it."

"But it might make you feel better. I _am_ sorry I upset you. I was just enjoying it a little too much..."

Alec shot him a glare, climbing off the bed.

"Now, now," Magnus tsked, crawling to the edge of the mattress after him, trying not to snicker. "You know you're beautiful when you struggle. Especially across my sheets."

As Magnus had hoped, his words distracted Alec, who reached for his coat, picking it up off the floor, but seemed to momentarily forget how to put it on. Alec blushed, turning away from him. Magnus decided to press on.

"And you can't blame me for wanting to touch you. Do you know how long it's been since I've had the chance to do anything more than kiss and cuddle with you?"

Alec didn't reply, but of course, he remembered the night in Alicante, staring at the floor as the heat got worse. His face burned.

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't exploit your weaknesses in bed? I'm the only one that's allowed to touch you, to tickle you, to taste--"

"Fine, you're forgiven!" Alec interrupted, just to make him stop. Magnus leaned back on his heels, grinning. "Just don't do it again."

"Do I have to promise?"

"I don't know what to make you swear by."

"It's probably for the best," Magnus considered, with an exaggerated sigh. "I might find myself overcome with the temptation, and helpless to resist..."

"Try," Alec added dryly, pinching his lips together.

"I will try," Magnus conceded, resting his hands on his knees, patiently waiting for Alec to give in and come back to bed.

"And one more thing," Alec mused, frowning a little.

"Yes?"

"Take that choker off. I don't want to get stabbed every time you nuzzle me."

Magnus laughed, reaching back to unclasp the studded choker, removing it from his throat. He tossed it off the bed, unconcerned.

"Anything else?"

"Umm...that's it."

"What about the shirt? Do you want me to remove it too?"

Alec looked askance at Magnus, and managed a small shrug. "If you want."

"Is that a thinly veiled 'yes'?"

"It was more of a 'whatever you want.' "

"Will you take your shirt off?"

"It's cold," Alec objected, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It won't be, beneath the comforter," Magnus reasoned. Without further discussion, he lifted his own arms over his head and removed his shirt, peeling it from his arms and discarding it. Naked to the waist, his hair unaffected, he stared expectantly at Alec.

It felt like a challenge. From that standpoint, Alec felt like he had no choice but to remove his shirt, tit for tat. Unwilling to admit defeat twice in one evening to the warlock, Alec lifted his chin and raised his arms, removing his shirt. And for effect, he threw it with the same disregard Magnus used with most of his things, as if they were cheap and expendable (when he'd said otherwise).

Magnus's lip twitched. Eyes still level with Alec's, Magnus loosened the belt, ripping it from the loops. Then another toss, the metal buckle scraping across the floor.

Alec mirrored his gesture, removing his own belt. Instead of throwing it, he simply let it slip from his fingers, lifting his head to glance back at Magnus.

The warlock had scooted backward in bed, moving closer to the headboard. The comforter was thrown back, looking warm and inviting.

Magnus slid down to his side, head propped up in one hand, waiting for Alec to make his move.

Face still warm and suppressing a shiver, Alec returned to bed, climbing up and taking his place on the left side.

Seconds ticked past in silence. Magnus's eyes panned the length of Alec's body, studying the patterns of scars, tracing the outline of his form through the denim. Alec shivered and cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm cold," he reminded, tugging at the comforter. Alec jerked it upward to his chin, then sucked in a breath when Magnus moved closer, leaning into him. Magnus's arm slid around his waist, one of the warlock's clothed calves draped over his.

"Body heat," he murmured, before claiming Alec's mouth.


	29. Blink

"Alec?"

"Hm?" He murmured, eyelids heavy, nuzzling against Magnus's bent arm while the warlock's free hand gently combed through his hair, stroking the nape of his neck.

"Don't you ever get tired of fighting?"

"It's my job," Alec replied, straightforward. Like a shrug with words.

"Not the demon-hunting. I meant...these little battles we fight every time we're together. Not that you don't look adorable all red in the face and angry at me, but I'd much rather spend every spare second I have with you like this. Soaking up my time with sweet, affectionate Alec."

Alec flushed at the description, sure it didn't suit him. But not wanting to argue the point - which would only support what Magnus was saying, that they bickered too much. It was true, though, thinking about it. Maybe it wasn't always an argument. There were a number of misunderstandings, however, and disappointments. Something always getting in the way.

"I can be sweet," Alec said softly, circling the pad of his thumb around the warm, tan skin of Magnus's forearm.

"Oh, I know. But is it harder for you?"

"No...I guess I just take things too seriously sometimes. Or I've been taking my frustration out on you. But that's how it is around Jace and Isabelle - you've got to be quick on the draw. And I'm not just talking about weapons."

"I'm sure Jace would be nasty in a bitch fight."

"You mean a shouting match?"

"With nails and earrings being pulled."

"Jace doesn't have pierced ears."

"Never mind," Magnus snickered, still stroking Alec's hair.

"It can get heated. Jace doesn't back down, and I don't want to lose face, so of course I fight back."

"Are we talking a fist-fight? Or still verbal arguments?"

"Arguing. Isabelle thinks he's going to challenge me to a sparring match soon, though. To show off for Clary."

"Really? Can I come and watch?"

Alec blushed, lifting his chin. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

Remembering what Isabelle had said - teasing him about Magnus helping him cheat with another Mark, Alec worried on his lower lip. "I'm not sure."

"Think I'll distract you and throw you off your game?"

"Maybe?"

"Then I won't come. I want you to pound his pretty face into the pavement."

Alec laughed, leaning in and kissing Magnus for being so supportive. And for giving up on coming without argument.

"See. Now this is what I miss," Magnus murmured, curling his fingers beneath Alec's chin to keep him there, kissing him again.

Alec complied with a soft sound of pleasure, lashes falling.

They kissed languidly until the need to breathe forced them apart. Alec top lip brushed Magnus's bottom, hot breath exchanged between them.

A few seconds' rest, and Magnus snickered, taking hold of the comforter and jerking it up over their heads.

There was a rustle of movement beneath the canary-yellow canopy. A gasp, a low chuckle, followed by helpless laughter.


	30. Background

The wind blew harshly. It was warm and dry air, no other sound around but for the hard-working breeze.

Alec recognized the smell first, before it occurred to him that the landscape was familiar as well.

Alicante.

Two lone figures walked ahead, the one on the left side taller and moving awkwardly. His wrists were bound behind him, making his arms look foreshortened at his sides.

The warlock!

Alec gasped, but there was no sound.

He watched helplessly as the red-haired half-demon turned his head slightly, eying his mother. Maryse Lightwood refused to look at the Downworlder, jaw clenched. She still had a tight hold on his upper arm, perfectly confidant that he was powerless. It wasn't much further to the Gard.

The silence bothered him. And the fact that he knew this didn't end well. But what could do? He couldn't seem to move or scream, much less run ahead and warn her. He couldn't do anything but watch. It was playing out in front of him.

Up ahead, Alec realized something had fallen. The cord holding Daniel Wyrick's wrists together, it slid quietly to the ground. He kept his arms in the same position, not wanting to alert the shadowhunter to the fact. He did, however, separate his left hand from the right by an inch and wiggle some feeling back into his fingers. The binding rune had worn off too! No!

Mother!

He saw the side of the warlock's mouth curve. His lips must be free too from the invisible gag. Alec's eyes shifted desperately to Maryse, who stubbornly maintained her face-forward stare. Maybe if she would look to the side, she'd realize…

And then it was happening, so fast Alec swallowed his silent scream.

Using the same arm she'd been gripping the entire time, the warlock spun around and pulled her in, his left hand whipping around and circling her throat. His palm and fingertips were glowing red.

"Should I kill you now, or start with your children?" he growled, spitting in her face.

Why didn't his mother defend herself? She could have struck out with her hands or kicked him. There were a number of maneuvers, if she just focused, she could use on the warlock.

And yet she awkwardly dangled from his hand, her arms frozen at her sides, her back unnaturally straight. Alec realized with horror that he must be keeping her suspended by magic.

"I don't like you," The warlock decided. "You're a frigid bitch. But I think I'll let you go."

Alec was stunned. Relieved, but confused at the same time.

"I want the blonde, and the dark-haired girl that favors you. And I think I'll save the boy with the blue eyes for last."

His mother made a choking, guttural sound, eyes rolling back.

"What's that? You can't breathe? Oh, I'm sorry."

He dropped her to the ground. Maryse fell to her side, gasping and coughing.

Daniel Wyrick knelt down beside her, watching her face, waiting for her to stop sputtering.

"Do you know they tried to kill me today?" he asked conversationally. "They kicked down my door and invaded my home and threatened to take me in, but then they started throwing blades at me. That's not very nice, is it?"

Maryse glared up at him with bloodshot eyes. She tried to say something. The warlock jerked his wrist, and the words were cut off.

"That was a rhetorical question. Here's what I'm going to do. Since you've been fairly decent to me today, I'm going to open a portal for you and give you ten seconds' head start. I don't know how fit you people are at your age, but I hope for your sake that you can keep up."

The warlock rose, jerking her up by the arm. Her eyes squinted in pain, but she still couldn't make a sound.

"Oh, and tell your children I'm coming for them. Will you do that for me?" he crooned. Maryse refused to look at him, puffing hot air through her nose.

"No? You think you can protect them?" he asked, head cocked to one side.

"Don't be stupid. Rule-abiding warlocks are docile. They're sheep. You haven't seen what we can do when we're _pissed off_.

"TEN, NINE, EIGHT—" he started counting without warning, and his mother realized that meant RUN four seconds too late. The portal was too far in the distance, Alec could see that. It shimmered like a beacon of hope, and his mother ran as fast as possible, but she was still human in spite of years of training and toning. And she was wounded, besides.

The first volley of red sparks flew at her after the warlock cried "ONE! Time's up, Nephilim!"

Maryse didn't look back. Fortunately he missed. The second zoomed by her side, and he heard his mother gasp, trying not to run in a straight line, making her a less predictable target.

She was so close now. He could hear her breath straining, knew her muscles must be burning as she pushed towards the last of the distance separating her from her ticket home.

She was on the verge of diving for the portal, just a couple feet away, when the final blast hit her in the back. Crying out, she was propelled forward on her knees, and then the portal swallowed her up.

* * *

Alec sat up in a cold sweat, burning eyes flying open.

Magnus was there, instantly reaching for him. Those familiar fingers gently pushed the sticky hair out of his face, tried to turn him so they were facing one another and draw him back down in the circle of his arms, pulling the comforter up over them.

"You were dreaming," Magnus explained. Alec nodded. He knew that much.

"You kept calling for your mother," Magnus continued, sounding amused. But trying to be serious, since Alec was obviously upset.

"I saw her get attacked," Alec explained, moistening his dry lips.

"Oh," Magnus replied, frowning in the darkness. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Alec shook his head, pushing his face into the warm space between Magnus's neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms around him, clinging to him.

Magnus wasn't going to complain about a free hug. If Alec didn't want to share now, maybe he could coax it out of him later. For now, he pressed his lips to Alec's moist brow, his fingers rubbing soothing patterns into the shadowhunter's lower back.

"I love you," he breathed against Alec's soft, disheveled hair.

"I know," Alec replied after a few seconds, his voice muffled against Magnus's shoulder.

Then he squeezed tighter, burying his face in Magnus's loose hair.

"Alec? Are you OK?" Magnus asked, trying to draw back from him in order to see his face. But Alec refused to let him go.

"I love you," he breathed against Magnus's ear, and the warlock smiled briefly. Was it taking advantage of the boy if he thoroughly enjoyed this? How sweet he was after waking up from a nightmare.

"I know," Magnus echoed, though he thrilled to hearing Alec say it. He didn't say it as often as Magnus would love to hear it. He wondered vaguely if it was because their relationship was so new, and it didn't occur to him. Or if it had something to do with the tough guy exterior. Only when they were alone and relaxed, the armor stripped away, could he say it with ease.

"You know, it's possible that it was just a dream. Unless you have the power of premonition in your repertoire?"

Alec was silent, mulling this over. Magnus felt his slight nod against his shoulder.

Magnus paused when he didn't say anything else, continuing to rub his back, to lay fond, half-formed kisses in his hair.

"But it felt real," Alec added.

"Did you get a chance to talk with your mother about it?"

Alec shook his head. "We talked, but not about that."

Of course. Maryse Lightwood probably wasn't big on discussing it. She had failed to turn over the warlock, been outsmarted and ultimately defeated by a Downworlder. She was probably bitterly mulling it over, and planning her counter-attack. Alec had said that his parents had left for Alicante. Probably frantically looking for the rogue warlock.

Fortunately, they had left their eldest son behind. Magnus was none-too-eager to give him up again.

"You should go back to sleep," Magnus sighed, kissing the top of his head. "I know you're going to get up at some insane hour. Unless I drug you."

"You wouldn't," Alec replied, although Magnus felt the shape of his smile against his bare shoulder. Magnus snickered.

"Don't tempt me," he murmured.

Alec pulled back, lifting his head to peer down at the warlock. For several, intense moments his eyes passed over Magnus, studying his flushed pulled-from-sleep face, his lazy eyes, his soft mouth. Magnus twitched, knowing he wasn't at his best in the middle of the night, but Alec smiled, that look of shy approval evident in his eyes.

"You wouldn't do that to me," Alec repeated, confidant. "I trust you."

Magnus lifted his hand back into the shadowhunter's wild, dark hair, palm pressed against the nape of his neck, trying to bring him back down. He felt Alec hesitate, and guessed he wasn't used to kissing after waking up.

It wasn't as repugnant as it sounded. And it was something the gorgeous shadowhunter was just going to have to get used to. If Magnus was going to be awakened at all hours of the night or early morning, he expected kisses in trade.

After the first kiss, Alec lost his resistance, relaxing into Magnus's chest and kissing him back with sweet fervor.

Magnus kissed him until he felt sure that Alec had forgotten about the dream entirely. Their mouths still locked together, he shifted the shadowhunter onto his back, and Alec moved there willingly, arms sliding around Magnus's neck, bringing him down with him.

"Alec," he breathed, nibbling on his lower lip. "You need your rest."

Alec shook his head, biting Magnus's lip back, and tugging on it.

"I'm not tired now."

"You will be in the morning."

"So? I'll get over it," Alec replied in a soft, husky voice.

"More kissing then?"

"Yes, please," Alec whispered. Magnus could feel the warmth rise in the shadowhunter's cheeks.

"Well, since you asked nicely," Magnus drawled, lowering his mouth again. Alec kissed him eagerly, lifting one of his long legs – still wearing his pants from earlier, and he enfolded it across Magnus's backside, and draped his calf between the backs of his thighs.

It was a first for Alec – and all the more exciting because Magnus hadn't guided him in any way. He'd taken initiative all on his own. Magnus tried not to move within the span of his muscled leg, not wanting to overwhelm him. It was enough for one night.

Next time, he would show Alec the advantage of a position like that. Next time he would repay the favor. Give him new sensations to try out.

For now, he kissed Alec's willing mouth, fingers running through his soft hair and fanning it out against the pillow. And when their kisses turned languid again, and Alec's leg slackened, sliding back down against the mattress, Magnus pulled back, relaxing against the boy's side.


	31. Bite

Not having been asleep very long at all, Magnus's heavy eyelids came open and he groaned. Someone was buzzing.

Not used to being woken to the sharp, grating sound, Alec shot up in bed again and looked around the room, wide-eyed and startled. He looked like he was in dire need of a weapon, and Magnus reached over to press his hand.

"It's OK. Someone's downstairs."

"This late?"

"Unfortunately," Magnus sighed, leaning in to buss the shadowhunter's warm cheek. Maybe now he would appreciate why Magnus chose to sleep in, and to catch a nap when he could. Having no set office hours had a way of messing with his sleep patterns. And his sunny disposition.

Who enjoys being torn from their bed at 2 and 3 am for house calls? It was annoying before. It was annoying and inconvenient now, with Alec staying over. Firstly because he didn't want anything to take him from the warm company sleeping beside him. Secondly, because flaunting his shadowhunter boyfriend could be bad for business. His friends were tickled. The Downworlders that were his patrons might not find it so amusing. Especially if said boyfriend chose to go all protective on him and follow him to the door, to make sure everything went smoothly.

Magnus could just imagine it. They'd have to sit down and talk about that, set guidelines and exchange promises and what not, but it was too late now.

Alec moved as if to slide out of bed, and Magnus caught his chin, dragging his mouth back up for a kiss. Alec muttered a muffled protest against him, before giving in.

"Sleep," the warlock breathed against him, his arm out to catch him. Sure enough, Alec slumped back against his waiting arm, and then sank heavily into the mattress as Magnus lowered him back down. He was breathing evenly as Magnus regretfully lifted the comforter and got out of bed.

The buzzing continued, insistent.

"I'm coming, you impatient bastard," Magnus muttered under his breath, feeling around on the floor for something useful. His fingers brushed soft cotton and he tugged the shirt over his head. It was immediately apparent that it was _not_ the form-fitting long-sleeve he'd been wearing before. And it was inundated with Alec's scent. Mm. That part was nice. But he lowered his eyes, panning his upper half in the darkness and made a face at how short the shirt was on him. It wasn't that he couldn't rock a three-quarter tee and be happy to do so, especially with the tight leather pants he'd neglected to take off. It would be perfectly fine, if the shirt was short _and_ tight, as a number of his were. But short and loose was just...ungainly. And unacceptable.

Unfortunately, there wasn't time to plan another outfit. This one would have to do.

Running a smoothing hand through his hair, Magnus quietly opened the bedroom door - not that he had any worries that the spell would wear off if he made too much noise, and dipped into the hallway. Chairman Meow was crying from the kitchen, either begging for a midnight meal or bothered by the buzzing, he wasn't sure.

Again, with the damned buzzing. He wasn't deaf, by any means. Why did everyone insist on pressing the button again and again and AGAIN when they didn't get an answer in under two minutes?

Growling at the speaker before his glittering nail punched the button, Magnus was geared up for his usual greeting.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?"

"3:23," the reply crackled on his end. A low, masculine voice. Magnus rolled his eyes, already visualizing a burly werewolf. What was it this time? Impotence? Stomach ache? Wanting to take down a rival without having to do any of the dirty work?

"Can this wait ten hours?"

"No," he buzzed back. Magnus scowled at the speaker, not expecting the answer to be any different.

"Then you'd better come up." _So I can get this over with, and get back to bed._

Releasing the button, Magnus unlatched the door and waited, listening to the heavy footfalls on the creaking stairs, the sound growing louder. He was working on his game face, eyes bored, mouth tight. Irritated, but not completely hostile. He walked a thin line, making it difficult for the late-night visitors without starting a fight.

The knock came, heavy and insistent. Just like the buzzing.

Magnus turned the knob, opening the door. "You don't need to pound down the door. I'm already up."

"I can't sleep," the Werewolf announced, without so much as a hello or an introduction. Magnus eyed him blandly, and stepped back, giving the man room to move out of the doorway

"Great. You and me both," Magnus muttered, turning his cheek as the Werewolf entered his apartment, breathing heavily. Was the climb too much work on him? Too bad.

"I'm starting to see things."

"Oxygen deprivation will do that. And whatever you were drinking before you got here," the warlock drawled. He did reek of alcohol. But then it could be strong aftershave, or maybe mouthwash. Whatever it was, it made Magnus a touch nauseous.

"I wasn't drinking."

"Smoking up?" It could be a likely suspect. Either that or unclean sweat, underneath the layer of alcohol. Magnus wrinkled his nose, wishing his High Warlock status could at least guarantee a finer caliber of customers.

He lifted his head as the Werewolf turned on him, looking indignant. Clenched jaw, clenched fists, red face. _Take it easy._

"I'm not on anything."

"I find that hard to believe. Your pupils are dilated and your words are slurred."

"That's because I CAN'T SLEEP! I just told you that!" The Were growled. "And it's dark in here. Don't you own a lamp?"

"I'm saving on electricity," Magnus quipped. "Calm down or I'm going to have to ask you nicely to leave," he added, inspecting his nails. The polish was starting to chip. He was missing out on more than sleep, since his return to the city.

"I need help."

"You need to take a shower."

"I've already tried that. A hot shower doesn't make me sleepy."

"I was referring to the smell."

"What?" the werewolf replied, nostrils flaring.

"Never mind. What about other home remedies? Maybe you need to get laid."

"What the HELL? I'm married."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Not our sex life!"

Magnus waited, absently picking at the chipped edges.

"She snores."

"There's your problem."

"So do I," the werewolf sighed. "I usually don't mind. I'm usually fast asleep. But I can't fall asleep! I lay awake and I stare at her snoring. I didn't realize how unattractive she looks when she's sleeping."

"Snoring is an unattractive habit. Get her a nasal strip."

"Shut up," the werewolf replied, although he was tired of arguing with the warlock. He hadn't paid the cab fare, and whatever insane amount Magnus planned on charging him, to be verbally abused. "Can you help me or not?"

"It'll cost you," Magnus said, getting to the point.

"I figured. I cashed my paycheck."

"Oh? Where do you work?"

"Purgatory. It's that club in--"

"I know where it is. Nice place." Posh Downworlder club. VIP room, long line no matter what night of the week it was. It was hot and in demand, and anyone who was anyone (ie. not a mundane) wanted in.

"I'm a bouncer there."

"Really?" For the first time since the Werewolf arrived, Magnus looked interested.

"I don't want your money," Magnus decided, letting his arm fall back to his side, leaving the polish alone.

The werewolf looked suspicious. It did have a shady ring to it. "What do you want, then?"

"Free admission."

The werewolf stared at him blankly, like he'd just asked for a BJ. Imagine that, propositioning a painfully straight, married Werewolf. There was nothing appealing about that scenario.

Magnus was tempted to snicker, but he stared blankly back until the fellow Downworlder accepted his terms.

"I could get in trouble."

"I could care less."

"How often?"

"I don't get out much. It'll be a fair trade. Anyway, I'm not worried about the entry fee. I just want to be able to skip to the front of the line and save on time. So, what do you say?"

The werewolf appeared to mull it over, frowning.

"Fine. I'll let you in if I'm working."

"And my date."

He gritted his teeth. Magnus quirked his brow, waiting.

"Fine," the werewolf ground out. "Now give me what I want."

Magnus smiled in sweet victory.

So the werewolf wanted to sleep. He was probably expecting something conventional like a vial of liquid to take home and down in the presence of his sleeping wife. Or a written spell to slip under his pillow, after sacrificing a dove and lighting a candle.

Silly werewolf. He hadn't specified the where and when of the deal. And a time-release spell would require some elaborate planning, or waiting up - allowing time for the Werewolf to return home before trying to enact the spell across the distance. And why go to all the trouble, when there was really a very easy solution that would still achieve the desired result without all the fuss?

Magnus snapped his finger, the bulky man falling unceremoniously to the floor with a pretty loud thud.

After a few seconds, he started to snore.

"You're welcome," he muttered, standing over the unconscious werewolf. Another happy customer.

Ten minutes later, Magnus had disposed of the unnamed Werewolf, not feeling too bad about leaving him in the smallish entryway to the building. At least he'd called a cab to pick him up, warning the operator that his friend had had a little too much to drink and might need some help to the curb. But don't worry; he's packing alot of cash. So all that hard-earned money would still come to good use; it would get him home, sleeping soundly by his snoring wife.

And speaking of, Magnus had every intention of crawling back into bed with his sleeping boyfriend. First, he removed the shirt he'd borrowed, tossing it to the floor. The pants had to go as well. They were too tight to sleep in.

But he didn't want to scare Alec, if he turned over or when he woke to a very naked warlock in his bed. He compromised with pair of pajama pants, stepping into them quickly.

Then he crept back into bed, smiling as he slid back into place beside Alec.

He lifted the spell. Alec mumured in his sleep, shifting naturally to curl up with the new warmth, nuzzling Magnus's shoulder. The warlock ran his arm around him, drawing him closer. He kissed Alec's hair, the edge of his cheek, and his shoulder before settling in against him, surprisingly comfortable resting this way, snug against another warm body. Who would have thought he would allow anything other than the mountain of pillows and Chairman Meow into his bed?

There was no substitute now for Alec. Not even a glamored body pillow that looked and even smelled like him.

Sleep came to take him without a problem.


	32. Bow

(Ok, so for whatever reason, FF doesn't like when you use the arrow looking bracket symbol to the right of the M on your keyboard. So that line in the text message may not appear to make sense. I substituted something else because I really like that part of the dialogue, so please just imagine it looks like a heart and not like a hoopdie ^ with a 3 after it. Rotate that ^ once to the left and you'll get it. Thank you and sorry!)

* * *

The inside of Alec's coat pocket buzzed. Setting his coffee between his knees carefully, he reached inside and removed the cell.

One new text message.

_Magnus._

Smiling faintly, he flipped open the phone, reading the message.

_Why didn't you wake me up? You know I can always nap later. But who knows when you'll show up at my door again?_

Alec rolled his eyes. He was surprised that Magnus was awake. He hadn't so much as shifted in his sleep while Alec got dressed and attempted to straighten his side of the bed. He hadn't clenched his eyes or lifted his head at the sound of Alec leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a click.

Alec wondered vaguely what had woken him up, and why he didn't just roll over and go back to sleep. After all, it had taken a burning coffee machine and Chairman Meow's scratching to rouse him yesterday.

Alec opened a new window, trying to type a reply to the rocking motion of the subway car.

Alec:  
Don't be melodramatic.

Magnus:  
I was pouting, not whining.

Alec:  
Either way, you know I'll be back.

Magnus:  
No, I don't. You pencil me in between battle plans.

Alec:  
Duty calls. Surely you understand that.

Magnus:  
Sure. But I can have my cake and eat it too. Serve the public and service my boyfriend at the same time.

Alec blushed, closing the phone. He took a hot sip of coffee, clearing his throat, when his phone buzzed again.

Magnus:  
Sorry. Too much?

Alec:  
Little bit.

Magnus:  
I can smell your hair on the sheets.

Alec:  
OK...

Magnus:  
I love that. And how you made your side of the bed. So cute.

Alec:  
Can't help it.

Magnus:  
Want to come back and tidy up my side too?

Alec:  
You're old enough to make the bed.

Magnus:  
But you do it so well.

Alec:  
You're so lazy. You're not going to do it, are you?

Magnus:  
Thinking about it. Although what's the point, if you're coming over tonight? We'll just unmake it again.

Alec:  
Now you're so sure I'm coming over?

Magnus:  
Wishful thinking.

Alec:  
I'll come when I can get away. I don't know what time yet, but I will try.

Magnus:  
I know. And I'll be waiting for you. But tell me something.

Alec:  
Yes?

Magnus:  
The leather pants. Like them?

Alec:  
Yes.

Magnus:  
Love them?

Alec:  
Yes...

Magnus:  
Good. I'll squeeze into another pair for you tonight.

Alec:  
OK.

Magnus:  
But just fair warning. I'm taking them off when we go to bed tonight.

Alec:  
OK...

Magnus:  
And I'm not putting on PJ pants.

Alec:  
So...?

Magnus:  
I'm sleeping in my birthday suit, and if you have a problem with it, tell me now.

Alec lowered the phone, finding it hard to swallow again. Did he have a problem with it? From the beginning, Magnus had worn pajama pants whenever they happened to share a bed - for Alec's comfort, sacrificing his own. He had never slept with a naked warlock, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face that tonight.

On the other hand, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it, before Magnus asked to return to his preferred method of sleeping. At least he was running it by Alec. Rather than just...surprising him beneath the comforter.

Alec squinched his eyes closed for half a minute, before tentatively lifting the phone. It was hard to type his reply.

Alec:  
I don't know.

Magnus:  
Meditate on it?

Alec:  
OK

Magnus:  
We could always have some fun with a Fearless rune?

Alec:  
That won't be necessary.

Magnus:  
Just trying to be helpful.

Alec:  
Thanks.

Magnus:  
See you tonight?

Alec:  
Yes.

Magnus:  
Mind if I call and/or text before then?

Alec:  
If you want.

Magnus:  
How many bars do you have left?

Alec glanced at the top righthand corner of the screen.

Alec:  
Three.

Magnus:  
Better put your cell on the charger when you get back.

Alec:  
I will.

Magnus:  
Try to remember.

Alec:  
I'll do it.

Magnus:  
Then I'm going back to sleep for a few hours.

Alec:  
OK. Sleep well.

Magnus:  
I'm unmaking your side of the bed right now and curling up with your pillow.

Alec:  
Grrr.

Magnus:  
I ^3 you.

Alec:  
What?

Magnus:  
Focus, shadowhunter. What does it look like?

Alec:  
Um. A claw?

Magnus:  
LOL. No. I claw you? How is that sweet?

Alec:  
You're a Downworlder. I don't know.

Magnus:  
Try again.

Alec squinted, focusing on the symbol some more. It did kind of look like a footprint. Or a showshoe. He still didn't get it.

Magnus:  
A heart?

Alec:  
Oh. I see.

Magnus:  
And a heart stands for?

Alec:  
Right. I didn't realize.

Magnus:  
That's what I'm here for, darling. To supplement your shadowhunter education with lessons on txtspeak, proper methods for unmaking the bed, and the art of love.

Alec:  
So you're my mentor now?

Magnus:  
I like 'Master' better.

Alec:  
I don't.

Magnus:  
Teacher?

Alec:  
OK.

Magnus:  
So you're my student. Pity you didn't enjoy the idea of roleplaying.

Alec:  
I just don't want to pretend you're an evil warlock, for fun.

Magnus:  
But some hot teacher-student scenario involving a yard stick, would that be OK?

Alec:  
Ummmm.

Magnus:  
Fantastic. I've always wanted to discipline a shadowhunter.

Alec:  
Not going to happen.

Magnus:  
Because you're going to be a model student?

Alec:  
I am.

Magnus:  
Teacher's pet.

Alec:  
...?

Magnus:  
I'll show you later.

* * *

Alec stepped off the elevator, tossing the empty coffee cup into the trash.

Unlike yesterday, no one was waiting for him in the sitting room. In fact, the place seemed oddly quiet.

Frowning in suspicion, he placed his hand on his hip and continued down the hall, scanning the closed doors, listening for any sound. Unless they were slacking off, everyone should be up at this hour. Not sure if Clary was used to the early wake up call - but she was going to have to get used to it. The life of a shadowhunter typically consisted of little sleep, disturbing dreams, a multitude of scars, and a restless stomach.

Speaking of which, he was kind of hungry. He thought about hitting the kitchen, but decided finding the others was of more importance.

Pausing outside the training room, he had a notion that he might be warm, and opened the door.

Sure enough, Isabelle, Jace, and Clary were sprawled across the floor in their pajamas. Clary was the first to glance up at his arrival, face heating up. He noticed the way she glanced self-consciously down at her flimsy tank top, and the close proximity of her elbow and arm to Jace's.

Well, he would be stupid to think that while he was receiving his "education" from Magnus, that their relationship wasn't also developing behind the scenes. Not that he wanted to be informed of the details.

It was only natural, right? There was nothing standing in their way now. No dark past making a future impossible. No conceivable threat tearing them apart. They had the downtime to enjoy a semi-normal relatioship; to eat out, to stay in, to be alone.

Did he mind it so much, the fact that they were together? It was staring him in the face, in Clary's blush and Jace's lazy grin.

No, he didn't mind. He wasn't even jealous. It was weird - like seeing any of your siblings together would be weird. But he'd get over it. As long as it didn't get in the way of day-to-day functioning, it was fine.

Besides, a happy Jace might change up the way they fought. He might be a little less suicidal. A little more careful.

Or maybe not. Maybe they just had to deal with the added handicap of a novice in Clary, wanting to come every time.

" 'Morning," Isabelle greeted, hands curled around a hot mug of black coffee.

"Good morning," he responded, taking a seat on the floor beside her. He was the only one dressed for the day. Er, well, in last night's clothing.

"We were just discussing what Clary's signature weapon should be."

"I don't think you could handle a whip," Isabelle pointed out, brow arched. "Sorry."

"It's OK. I wasn't going to try."

"You're pretty good with a blade, for a beginner," Alec conceded. "Or is that your thing?" he asked Jace, brows raised.

Jace smiled, passing a hand through his morning hair. "Two or three at a time. Don't forget that part."

"So Jace juggles seraph blades. Isabelle has her whip. What about me?"

"Your bow," Clary pointed out.

Alec shrugged. "It hasn't been as effective as I'd like, in the heat of the moment."

"Maybe you need to be quicker on the draw," Jace retorted, seriously regarding him.

"Or maybe it takes longer to draw back on an arrow than to whip out a seraph blade and slash," Alec replied, frowning at him.

"Well, just for the sake of argument, let's say you still prefer the bow. You wear it anyway, even if you reach for a blade," Isabelle pointed out.

"Clary's pretty good with a stele."

"That's not really a weapon," Clary replied.

"It can be. You've done more damage with a rune than I could ever hope to with a blade," Alec conceded.

Jace nodded his approval. "I like it. Now if only we could get fangboy to come over and play, we could be the Fab Five."

Clary smacked his arm. He took it and chuckled.

"That sounds so gay," Isabelle replied, then glanced sidelong at Alec. "No offense."

"None taken. It didn't come out of my mouth."

Jace shot him the finger, and Alec laughed.


	33. Backhand

"Ok, lesson number one: pull your hair back."

Clary made a face, glancing from Isabelle to Jace and back. Was she serious? She looked serious. She looked impatient.

"I don't have anything to tie it back with."

"Lesson number two: be prepared," Isabelle rattled off.

"Isn't that the Boy Scout's motto?" Jace drawled.

Rolling her eyes, Isabelle ignored him and removed the band from around her hair, shaking out what had been a very careful ponytail, loaning the rubberband to Clary.

"But what about you?"

"I'll fix my hair later."

"Here," Jace said, taking the hair tie and stepping up behind Clary. Instead of just jerking her hair back and knotting the rubberband painfully around it a few times, he gently combed her hair back with his fingers and held the base of the ponytail together while coiling the rubberband around. Clary stood very still, head up, smiling a little when it was done.

"Thanks," she said, face warm.

"He's had lots of practice," Isabelle teased.

When Clary winced, Alec clarified: "He used to wear his hair back too before it was deemed uncool, and what was it, 'fruity'?"

"I wasn't going to say it," Jace said with a shrug and a small smile.

"Well, you did at the time," Alec said, but he didn't look offended.

"It was very Michael Bolton."

"Was he gay?" Clary inquired.

"Who's Michael Bolton?" Alec asked, brow puckered.

"We're getting off track!" Isabelle complained. "Can we focus, please?"

"Isabelle. Do you have some old Michael Bolton?"

"No. Don't insult me."

"We'll look it up later," Jace promised.

"Michael Bolton can sit on it and rotate!" Isabelle replied, irritated by the constant interruptions.

"Ouch. That's not nice."

"Shut up, Jace. And get out if you're going to keep talking."

"Do you want me to go?" He asked Clary.

"No. Don't go."

"See. Clary wants me here."

"Great. Then she can watch while I backhand you because you're getting on my nerves!" Isabelle replied, upper lip drawing back.

"OK. Enough!" Alec said, clapping his hands. "We're on Clary's time. We'll settle this later."

"What now?" Clary asked, trying to clear the air.

"Lesson number three: ignore Jace until we're done here."

Jace snickered, moving over to the corner, fingering the hilt of a sword mounted on the wall.

"OK. Let's begin. Alec, will you take care of the lights?"

"Sure."

His light footfalls moved across the room, flicking the switch off. The training room went dark. Clary sucked in a breath, disoriented.

"Are you afraid?" Jace whispered, his breath hot against her ear. Clary gasped, not realizing he was so close. She spun around in the darkness, not sure what was going on.

"Don't be afraid," Jace said, his voice farther away now. She hadn't even heard him move.

"Lesson number four," Isabelle continued, sounding like she was still standing across the room. "Embrace the darkness."

"What?" Clary asked. That sounded like a video game tag line. How the hell was she supposed to even function when she couldn't see? She couldn't even make out her own hands.

"We fight in the darkness most of the time," Alec pointed out, to her right. She turned her head blindly in that direction. "You'll have to get used to it. If you're lucky, you'll have streetlamps. And you should remember to carry a witchlight with you. Either way, you can't be afraid of every shadow you come across. It's very possible that what you're looking for is laying in wait in the shadows."

"Like a demon."

"For the most part, yes," Isabelle replied. "Close your eyes."

"But I already can't see!" Clary said, her voice sounding so loud in the quiet, dark room.

"As long as your eyes are open, you'll still try to find the light. There's no point. Forget about seeing anything. Close your eyes," she repeated. Clary obeyed, the nails of one hand digging into the other.

"What do you hear?"

"My own breathing," Clary replied, then laughed at herself. It sounded so stupid.

"Focus."

"It's like trying to see through a glamor," Jace pointed out. She turned her head reflexively in the direction of his voice, eyes still closed. "You've got to concentrate. Forget about everything else and listen."

Clary paused for a few seconds, trying to breathe in and out in a rhythm while listening to the soft sounds in the room.

"I hear a watch ticking."

"Good. What else?"

"Something metal scraping."

"Jace! Stop playing with the sword."

"Sorry."

Isabelle muttered something under her breath.

"What else, Clary?"

"The air condition humming. And…ohh, my cell phone. It's vibrating. Can I…?"

Isabelle sighed. "Alec. Get the light."

A second later the lights flicked back on and Clary squinted in Isabelle's direction. The taller girl nodded, giving her permission to answer the call, although it didn't look like she wanted to.

Clary rushed over to her cell, then smiled, heading out of the room with it.

"That's generous of you," Jace drawled. "We didn't get cell phone breaks."

"We didn't have cell phones when we were training." They were a great deal younger than Clary, after all.

"Shouldn't that be lesson number five?"

"This is my lesson, my rules."

"I didn't let her take a break for an hour and a half," Jace pointed out, looking proud.

"Yeah? And what were you doing that whole time?" Isabelle challenged.

"Isabelle," Alec warned.

"Meditating. And then some leg exercises."

"Really?"

"Yes." His brows lifted. "You don't believe me? Ask Clary."

"Of course she's going to cover your ass. Idiot."

"Make her swear on the Angel."

"That's stupid. She's shy. I don't expect her to admit you spent almost two hours making out when you should have been training."

Jace laughed. "Is that what you were imagining? Jealous?"

"Jace," Alec interrupted. "Just leave it alone."

"Hardly!" Isabelle retorted, clenching her fists. "It makes my stomach turn over."

"Are you sure? Because you seem awfully eager to believe that we were going to town on the floor—"

"Jace!" Alec hissed. The door was open. Clary stood in the doorway, holding the cell at her side, eyes very wide, face very red.

"Clary," Jace greeted, his smile tight. "Would you mind telling Isabelle what we did yesterday during your training session?"

"Well…we meditated for a while and worked on breathing techniques. And then we starting stretching..." She looked briefly at Jace, the blush more pronounced.

"And then leg exercises, like I said." He glanced at Isabelle with a snicker, and she glared back. "See?"

"Lesson number three is in full effect!" Isabelle snapped. "Ignore Jace. And Clary, no more interruptions, OK?"

"OK," Clary said softly, setting her phone back down in the corner and heading over to where she stood before.

"Alec. Lights."


	34. Berate

The light flipped back on unexpectedly. Alec was sneering down at Jace, his boot planted flat in the center of the boy's chest. Jace had one hand around his ankle, frozen in the process of twisting or shoving it out of the way when the flood of light startled them both.

Alec's heated face went pale, and he leaned back on his other leg, removing the pressure of his boot from Jace's chest and stepping back. Unphased, Jace sprang to his feet and dusted off his clothing.

"What is going on?" Maryse Lightwood demanded, managing to keep her voice low and sharp at the same time. Clary swallowed, even though she hadn't been involved – couldn't even be charged with watching from the sidelines because strictly speaking, she couldn't see a thing in the darkness. Over the past hour, however, she had learned to bring her other senses into better focus.

Obviously Jace and Alec could move and even fight just fine with no apparent light source whatsoever. It wasn't clear to Clary if they had been sparring or seriously fighting, but she had distinctly heard each blow, each kick, each squeak and scrape of their boots sliding across the floor, as well as the growling, cursing, and taunting that accompanied them.

"I_ was _training Clary," Isabelle said, her chin lifted. She wasn't going to take the blame for the latest interruption.

"Really? Training her what, exactly?"

Alec flushed, crossing an arm over his chest to grip the opposite bicep. His shirt was flecked with blood at the shoulder, presumably from his mouth.

"Not to be afraid of the dark, essentially," Jace replied, running a careful hand through his hair to bring it back under order.

"Is that why she looked petrified in the corner?" Maryse asked, brows lifted as she glanced over at Clary.

"I was just worried." Clary explained, biting her lip.

"For Jace?"

Jace rolled his eyes, unwilling to let another slight to his pride go. "We were fine."

"Is that the royal We or are you including Alec in that statement?" Isabelle replied, still irritated with the ruin of her lesson.

"Alec's fine. I'm fine. And just so you know, I would have thrown him down in seconds."

"You're bleeding," Maryse pointed out. Alec swiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Clean up, all of you. There'll be no more training today."

Isabelle sighed, gracefully coming to her feet. Clary looked relieved, moving over to Jace as Maryse opened the door.

"We'll convene in the library in twenty minutes," Maryse said, before stepping out of the room.

Clary lifted a hand to the Jace's jaw, fingertips gingerly brushing the darkening bruise there. Jace lifted a hand to push hers away.

"I'm fine," he repeated with annoyance, stooping to pick up the fallen sword and replace it on the wall.

Clary was snapping at him as Alec and Isabelle filed out of the room together, leaving them to what was sure to be another shouting match, conveniently sound-proofed by the training room walls.

"Good job," Isabelle muttered, glancing sidelong at Alec, whose swollen lip twitched.

"Thanks."

"When do I get my turn?"

"Next time. I'll give the lesson, and you can find an excuse to whip Jace into oblivion."

"Oh, I don't know. He might actually like that."

They both laughed, parting ways as they approached Isabelle's door.

- - -

Alec was the first to arrive. He had changed into a fresh shirt and splashed cool water over his face, assessing his split lip. It was the only injury he had received, and he wore it with pride, grinning at his reflection in spite of the tender lip.

His mood had sobered before reaching the library. Hands in his pockets, he nudged the door open, not surprised to find his mother already seated. Her hair was pulled back, her clothing – while not her gear, still completely black. She gestured for him to take a seat at the same table as he entered, which he did as quietly as possible.

"I've spoken with Magnus," she shared straightaway, and Alec's eyes widened a little.

"You're not going back to Alicante?" he inquired, automatically assuming Magnus had been contacted to open another portal.

Maryse shook her head. "The warlock is no longer in Idris. We should have known as much – but I had to be sure."

Alec tensed at this new information. It was not good news – he had hoped, in spite of the foreboding dream and his own suspicions, that it would be over; that Daniel Wyrick was found and finally placed in custody at the Gard.

"What are we going to do?"

"That is why I asked to meet. I don't want to have to involve anyone else in this affair. The Clave has trusted me to take care of the matter…despite my misjudgment yesterday."

Alec frowned. Of course she was still beating herself up about it. It was a serious mistake, but regret and embarrassment wouldn't serve anyone in the job that lay ahead.

"What did you ask Magnus?"

"I provided him with the warlock's soiled shirt, for use in a location spell. I understand he has employed the method before, and I wouldn't trust anyone else with the task."

"Because he is a friend?" Alec said softly.

"Because he is a High Warlock," Maryse replied, her glance reproachful. "We aren't dealing with a child here, a young warlock with no grasp on his own power. He is dangerous not only because he has broken the law, and has no concern for the Accords, but also because he has proven his strength."

"But Magnus is stronger," Alec said with conviction.

"Who is to say?" His mother replied. It was a rhetorical question. "We have a library full of books on demons and Downworlders." She gestured offhandedly to the shelves surrounding them. "But what do we really know of their power? We know what we have faced in the past. We know what they wish to show us. But they don't have to rely on Marks, they aren't limited by the physical world in which we operate.

"The human half we recognize, and readily understand. But the demon half? What of that? What do we really know?" Maryse repeated, staring off now as she mused. After a few moments of silence, her cool gaze honed in on Alec's pale face, and she added in a soft voice:

"You may choose to consort with a warlock, Alec, but how well do you truly know him?"

Alec was stunned into silence by his mother's words, gripping his knee beneath the table. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, then the distant click of the door sliding open. Isabelle stepped inside the library, apologizing for being a few minutes late.

"It's all right," Maryse said, sitting back. "Take your seat."

Jace and Clary came in after her, freshly changed, their hair wet from showering. Maryse's eyes narrowed, but she didn't voice whatever she was thinking, watching them take the chairs opposite to Isabelle and Alec. Jace removed Clary's chair for her before sliding into his own.

"So, what's going on?" Jace asked, cutting right to it.

Alec had trouble focusing as his mother related the news to the others.

After a minute, Alec felt a nudge to his right. Isabelle had kneed him, brow wrinkled. _What's wrong with you_? her eyes asked.

_I'm fine_, his distracted smile said.

She didn't look like she was buying it.

"So we find him, and then we take him," Jace was saying. His approach was usually simple and direct, involving a face-on attack.

"But he'll know we're coming," Clary said, the voice of reason in Alec's silence. He was grateful for that, though Jace looked angry that she was challenging his idea.

"And we'll be ready for that," he replied, hand splayed against the surface of the table. "Maybe we'll even let you join in this time."

Clary wrinkled her nose, looking like she wanted to stick her tongue out.

"But we aren't ready," Isabelle said, arms crossed over her chest.

"Four and a half shadowhunters against one warlock? That sounds like a sure win to me," Jace replied.

"I better not be the half in that statement," Clary said under her breath.

"No, I was referring to Alec actually," he teased, shooting his parabatai a teasing smile. Alec was completely oblivious to the jibe and the glance, and Isabelle pinched his thigh this time, causing him to jump.

"What's wrong with you?"

Alec lifted his head, muttering "Nothing."

"You aren't wrong, Isabelle," Maryse said. "Or you, Clary. He will be expecting us to look for him, although I think he will not expect us to find him so soon. And we won't be alone."

"Father?" Alec asked.

"I was going to ask Magnus Bane to join us."

Four surprised glances stared back at her as she said this.

"You're going to ask a warlock to fight with us?"

"Your memory is awfully short, Jace Lightwood."

He seemed so…touched by her use of the adopted last name, he had difficulty coming up with an immediate reply.

"Downworlders joined with Shadowhunters only recently," Maryse continued. "We owe a great deal to their compliance, and I don't see any problem with asking Magnus to help us. He would know best what we are about to face, and we can match magic with brute force to ensure Daniel Wyrick will not escape this time, and that no one else will be harmed."

"But you don't even like him," Alec replied. This time, everyone stared at him with surprise.

"Why would you say that?" Maryse replied, frowning.

"Because of the way you treated him yesterday, and the way you spoke of him not ten minutes ago. You can't just accept parts of him and still distrust him because you can't pin down his nature. _I_ trust him. It doesn't matter that he is a warlock.

"He's nothing like Daniel Wyrick. Our power doesn't determine who we are, but what we can do, and he chose a completely different path. Even if the temptation was there, he has stayed within the law. He has submitted to the Clave.

"So did you. So did we. I don't know how you can accuse Jace of memory lapse, when you forget so soon." Alec's jaw clamped, and he took a very quick breath. "We will never be anything like Valentine. In spite of our faults, our intentions are good. And intentions account for everything.

"I don't see why you can't see the distinction! You, of all people."

Alec stopped short, red in the face, and seemed to shrink back into his chair, exhausted by the rant. Or maybe afraid of what was going to happen next.

Vaguely, he was aware of a burning sensation in his wrist. He didn't have to look to assess that the tattoo was visible again; it was very easy to see where he'd found the confidence (or the sheer foolishness) to rebuke his own mother. An older shadowhunter, whom had no right to berate - even if she was wrong.

Maryse Lightwood studied her son for an uncomfortable amount of time, the library tense and quiet, waiting for the proverbial axe to fall. Jace look oddly proud, not bothering to conceal it. Isabelle was looking away from Alec, face flushed. Clary was biting her lip, expecting the worst.

"I am chastened by my own son," Maryse said slowly, looking away from him towards the door, and not really focusing on it so much as looking through it at nothing.

Alec sat stiffly, anticipating a rebuff.

"You are right, Alec. I should know better."

Alec breathed in sharply, curling his nails into his knee.

"Prejudice, like fear, runs very deep. I have tried to fight it, to adapt to changing times. But I suppose the thoughts are still there, however buried. They do me no credit."

Alec reached out, sliding his hand across the table to brush her fingers. She turned to glance at him, not moving her hand away from his, but not moving to take it, either.

"I know in my heart that Magnus is not evil. I do trust him, or I would not have been able to tolerate your relationship. I hope you understand that."

Alec nodded a little.

"I trust that his intentions are good, as you say. And he has already expressed a desire to help us. I think we all know why he is so willing to do that now."

Alec's face colored, and he glanced down at the table, retracting his hand.

"Do you still object to his involvement?"

"No."

"Then it's settled. Magnus will locate Daniel Wyrick, and then we will regroup."

They all nodded their agreement.

"Clary."

She lifted her head suddenly. "Yes?"

"Continue your training. You can't afford to be distracted by anything now." Anything apparently included Jace, by the way she looked at him too, warning him. "We will need everyone we can afford."

"What about Simon?"

"The Vampire?"

Still the "vampire". Not her best friend, or the mundane. But the Downworlder.

"If we need the help," she hedged.

"I'll consider it," Maryse replied, rising from her chair. She was the first to leave the room, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

"Why don't we invite Luke along too? Just for old time's sake," Jace drawled, poking fun at Clary.

"We're not going to war," Isabelle replied, pushing her chair back. "It won't require all of us, plus Magnus, plus a vampire, plus an entire pack of werewolves to take down one rogue warlock."

"Sounds like a party to me," Jace shrugged, coming to his feet.

"I could sleep better at night knowing he was completely outnumbered," Clary said, standing up as well.

" 'Sleep'?" Jace replied, brows raised. "Who does that anymore?"

"We'll all sleep better when this is over," Alec muttered to himself, leaving the room.


	35. Banter

"What are you doing?" Magnus inquired, a lot of noise cutting in on his end.

"I'm cleaning my room," Alec replied, swiping at invisible dust particles with a damp cloth while the cell phone was cradled against his ear.

"With your tongue?"

"No," Alec scoffed, wrinkling his nose.

"I only phrased it that way because I've seen your room, and it's immaculate."

"Only in comparison to your place," Alec said, running a fingertip along the clean surface, checking for dirt.

"My bedroom is tidy."

"The one room no one sees? You need to do better."

"No one but you and me," Magnus amended.

Alec closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Right."

"Why don't you come over and lend a helping hand? Shadowhunters make house calls."

"I'm not a maid. But I can see where you might be confused," Alec replied with sarcasm.

"Then come arrest me for crimes against cleaning."

"Don't joke about that."

"Sorry. I didn't realize the subject was taboo."

"Just until Wyrick is in custody again. Speaking of that, have you made any progress? My mother said you offered to help."

"Well, I didn't actually put myself out there. It was more suggested and I agreed. I'm not going to turn down your mother."

"Because she's my mother?"

"Because she's scary."

"What? The eight-hundred year old warlock is afraid?" Alec teased, his lip twitching.

"It would be foolish not to be at least a little intimidated by her. She's got The Look."

"Yes, she does. I know that look."

"It's practically a weapon."

"But she called you, right? You couldn't even see her eyes."

"That's true. Her business voice is scary too, though."

"You're so sad," Alec said, trying not to laugh.

"I'm just trying to make light of a sour subject. But you can relay it back to your mother if you wish - to spare me from having to talk to her. I haven't made any headway on the location spell. It's not that I'm sitting around here watching I Love Lucy reruns. Please remind her we are dealing with a warlock, and he's not stupid. If he were a werewolf on the other hand..."

"I get the point. So he's probably cloaking himself. He saw you yesterday, so I'm sure he knows we work closely with a warlock and he's taking steps."

"Darling, if he was paying attention at all yesterday, I'm sure he picked up on more than just our working relationship."

Alec blushed. "Well, that's not relevant, is it?"

"Perhaps not. But I still want to give you a protection rune. Or three."

"I'll be fine, Magnus. Focus on the location spell."

"What would it hurt? I don't even need a stele, if you recall. It won't sting. In fact, you rather liked it last time.."

"I remember very well," Alec interrupted, snappish. He pushed off the wall, advancing on an imaginary Magnus while clenching his hand around the cell phone. "And do you realize I told off my mom today because of what you did? I would never show her such disrespect. Even if she was out of line." Alec tried not to growl.

"Wow."

"Yeah. I basically called her a racist and a hypocrite and everyone thought I'd lost my mind. Well, except maybe Jace."

"Always a rebel."

"I don't want these supercharged runes to govern my life. I don't even feel like myself."

"What else happened today?"

"What?"

"I sense there's something else you want to tell me. In regards to your newfound confidence."

Alec blinked. How did he _know _that? Jace surely didn't call him up.

"Well, I fought Jace in the dark today, and I pinned him down for all of three seconds before my mother interrupted."

"You held him down?"

"With my boot."

"I like that. Can we reenact that later? But maybe without the shoes."

"Who told you?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I know it wasn't Jace, so how did you know?"

"Premonition."

"Try again."

"I had a dream."

"Still not buying it."

"Isabelle texted me earlier. Good job, by the way."

Alec shook his head, sitting down on the end of the bed with a faint smile. "Thanks. Wait, why did_ she _text you?"

"Because she was proud of her big brother taking down the overconfident hero?"

"And she thought you'd enjoy hearing it," Alec replied, sounding sulky.

"I'm sorry if Jace got his whittle feewings hurt. But you're right - I did enjoy imagining it. I am on your team, darling."

"There's no team!"

"Well, you all fight for the same cause, but I wouldn't be wrapped up in your shadowhunter politics if not for you."

"You chose the right side."

"There was no choice," Magnus replied. Alec winced, remembering what he'd said to his mother about good intentions. Even if Magnus's reasons were entirely selfish, he was still doing the right thing. He didn't need to hear Magnus admit to it, to know it was true.

Alec sank back into bed, legs still draped over the edge, feet just touching the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting on my 5:00 to show."

"It's 5:20," Alec pointed out, glancing at the clock.

"And if they get here in the next ten minutes, it'll be right on time."

"I don't get it."

"Downworlder time, darling."

"I didn't realize you had a different way of reading time?"

"We don't. Just a different way of seeing things - especially the passage of time."

"Oh."

"What if I were willing to remove the rune? Would you let me use a protection spell then?"

"I thought it was permanent."

"Nothing is permanent, especially in this day and age. I don't even know why they call hair dye permanent. It fades in less a month."

"I wouldn't know."

"Don't change the subject. What do you say?"

"What would happen?"

"Your skin would itch for a little while, and there would be a scar, but I'm guessing you wouldn't care about that part."

"I meant with the protection spell."

"Ah! Well, it depends on which one I use. I didn't want to put too much planning into it if you were just going to shoot me down."

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you," Magnus replied. Then there was a loud, buzzing sound in the background. Alec sat up, a little dizzy. That sound was so familiar. Did he have a dream about it last night? He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"No rest for the weary. I've got to go."

_Sleep_. Alec heard the soft voice in his head, still trying to remember. He murmured "OK," distracted.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yeah."

Magnus sent a kiss through the phone, purring: "Je t'adore."

That cut through Alec's abstraction, and he smiled a little, running a hand back through his hair, getting it out of his face. "I know."

"Ohhh, he speaks French. Could you be anymore perfect?"

"Go get the door," Alec tsked, though still smiling.

"Going," Magnus replied, blowing another kiss and chuckling before the line cut out.


	36. Behave

Setting his cell phone down en route to the door, Magnus passed his ringed fingers over the crown of spikes – just to enjoy the tickle of barely unsettling the ends. He loved any attention to his scalp.

Through the wood of the door, his nostrils alerted him to the scent of another warlock. His 5:00 (or 5:30, depending on how you look at it) was supposed to be a young witch, in need of advise on a particularly tricky spell. He had briefly considered taking it on as charity, but if the word got out, he'd find himself perpetually screwed by others in the magical community in need of some pro bono advice.

But it wasn't a girl he saw through the peephole – but a man with flaming red hair in dire need of a brush. He was dropping leaves and probably dirt right there in his entryway.

Frowning, Magnus debated opening the door. It would be stupid to think a thin layer of wood and metal would matter. It rarely stopped him from entering a place, even if he was unwanted.

Lips pursed, he unlatched the door and opened it, then his brows shot up.

"A projection?" Magnus inquired, leaning into his doorframe while looking down his nose at the other warlock. "Did you think I wouldn't guess?"

The semi-sheer, shimmering projection of Daniel Wyrick smirked. "No. But I couldn't make it in the flesh. Sorry."

"The travel time?"

Daniel shook his head, still smiling. "No cheating. You know I have no intention of making it easier for you."

"I figured that out when the first ten tries didn't work," Magnus said with a frown, though the statement was part-frustration, part respect – after all, anyone that could evade him this well knew what they were about. He'd exhausted just about every location spell he knew. And a number he'd made up.

"Are you my 5:00?"

"I made the appointment."

"The only advise I have for you is to—"

"Turn myself in?" Wyrick interrupted, head tilted to one side.

"I was going to say, find a way of spontaneously combusting. Before the shadowhunters find you."

"Ohhh, I'm so scared. It's sweet that you're handing out threats on their behalf, though."

"It was a friendly warning."

"And I thank you. But I'm not worried."

"You're bleeding," Magnus pointed out, noticing the stain in the warlock's t-shirt.

Daniel sighed. "I've already bled through three shirts. And it itches like a bitch."

"Maybe it's infected."

"Doubtful." He was remembering the very painful disinfecting he'd received from Alec. And his own attempts to treat the wound. But it wasn't healing properly. He couldn't even heal himself, courtesy of being on the wrong end of a seraph blade. It wasn't just a puncture wound; it was backed by the power of the Angel, and it was eating away at his half-demon flesh. It was a slow, agonizing process, though he tried to keep the pain from showing.

"What do you want?" Magnus inquired, bored. He probably shouldn't be conversing with the warlock on principle – but he was hoping to get something of use out of the conversation. And so he endured the indignation, and hoped Alec would understand.

"Holy Father, I have sinned. Will you hear my confession?" Daniel asked, looking up from his lashes with a look of soft contrition. It might have almost been believable if his mouth hadn't twitched.

"I'm a High Warlock, not a priest. And I don't service wanted criminals." In fact, he was pretty sure the law forbade it.

"So does that mean I can't come in?" Wyrick asked, still in his soft voice.

"I'd rather you leave."

"No, you don't. I've made your day."

"You're monopolizing my time."

"I'm not going to talk to you standing out here on the stairwell. So we waste more time."

"Technically, you're not standing anywhere near my apartment. Where are you?"

"Good one," Daniel complimented, taking a step forward.

"Fine," Magnus said, reluctantly stepping aside. "But don't touch anything."

Wyrick breezed past him, his projection walking silently into the flat and looking around the wide, open, and mostly empty space.

"So this is how the other half lives," he muttered, probably imagining his own place.

"Queens is a dump," Magnus retorted, closing the door and leaning into it.

"Brooklyn smells like shit on a good day," Daniel replied, back still turned to him.

"I didn't notice."

"Especially when it's overcast."

"Whereas Queens is an undesirable place, regardless of the weather."

"I miss it."

"Then why don't you go home?"

"Not possible, at the moment."

"If you don't turn yourself in, you won't ever be able to go back."

"Then I'll get over it. I'll rent a shitty apartment somewhere else."

"They won't give up, just because you've moved."

"No. But I'll have some time to think."

"So you don't plan on attacking the shadowhunters for sport?"

"I can work on relocating and my Evil Plan at the same time."

"That's so tacky," Magnus replied, trying to sound flippant and sarcastic, concealing his tightening fist behind his back.

"What's that?" Daniel Wyrick replied politely, moving as if to take a seat on the couch, but remembering Magnus's warning. He stood in front of it, glancing over his shoulder at the other warlock.

"You could just make a clean getaway and focus your energy on hiding. If you come back to hurt them, you'll be caught in the process. That's always how it works. Get close enough, and you'll slip up."

"See, I don't agree. I think I'll make out just fine. And I won't be able to move on properly until I've finished here."

"What would it serve?" Magnus said in a reasonable, persuasive tone, approaching the projection. "You're thinking about the small picture. But if you move against a handful of shadowhunters, you will be starting something a lot bigger than you planned."

Wyrick shrugged. "So I piss off the lot of them. I can still sleep at night."

"But for how long?"

"You tell me."

"Do you want me to read your palm?"

"Why don't you call up your boyfriend and let him know I've dropped in for a visit?"

"So you can taunt him and disappear?"

"Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

"Sounds like a waste of time. And so is this conversation. I do have another appointment in twenty minutes."

" 'Course. Don't want to keep you."

"Appreciate that," Magnus drawled, sneering.

"But before I head out, I was wondering. How long have you been involved with your barely legal shadowhunter?"

"Sorry. I've got my work-face on. I don't feel like discussing my private life."

"I was with Justin for two years," Wyrick admitted, the smallest pucker between his eyebrows.

"The mundane?"

He nodded, jaw tightening. "He played the bass. And he wrote really bad poetry. But he had the best smell. It didn't matter if it was ninety degrees outside, and he'd taken the subway. He still smelled so good."

Magnus didn't comment, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm starting to forget what he smelled like. And I can't curl up in bed with his smell anymore. I can't flip through his journals, or touch his guitar because I'm nowhere near Queens - and wanted as a criminal by both worlds."

"You are a criminal," Magnus replied in a flat tone.

"I've done nothing that you wouldn't do if you had to watch him die!" Wyrick seethed, his pale face flush with anger.

"My condolences. Your pain is understandable. But your anger is misguided. You're making all the wrong choices."

"Because I don't want to rot away in the Gard? I would have been railroaded, even before I defended myself in my own home. That's how it works. There's no justice for _us_."

"That's a medieval way of looking at it."

"It's realistic. You're still of use to them. But if you weren't their errand boy, and you fell under suspicion for something, they'd come for you too."

"And I'd cooperate."

"Because you've naïve enough to think it'd end up in your favor."

"Because I'm not stupid enough to challenge the Clave," Magnus said with annoyance.

"Well, criminal does have a better ring to it than _coward_," Wyrick retorted with a snicker.

"Don't forget insane," Magnus replied, ignoring the jab.

Daniel Wyrick glared at Magnus. They both turned their heads reflexively at the sound of the buzzer.

"Why don't you tell me how rational you are after the blue-eyed Nephilim takes his last breath."

Magnus balled his fists again, but he tried to remain calm – unwilling to give the other warlock the satisfaction.

"I have this feeling he'll be around longer than you."

Daniel laughed behind closed lips, shrugging. "If it comforts you."

"Get out of my house," Magnus growled. Then he waved his hand angrily, dispelling the projection. The warlock promptly disappeared from his living room.

* * *

**Thank you, readers and reviewers!**

**Methinks there may be more Magnus and Alec in the next chapter. Like in the same room, at the same time...  
**

MagnusSpark, you inspired this chapter. Go team.

Some Things Don't Have to End: What happened to thy long reviews? And where hath Charlotte-LOVE- gone? I'm freaking out, anon. Hence the bad quasi-Shakespearean lingo.

OmgADot: I love that you keep up with more than one story. I do feel loved.

icaughtkira: Love reading your reviews. Keep them coming and I will strive to impress you! Can't promise Alec in a french maid costume -- although I have the EXACT image stuck in my head for all of five very silly seconds. I didn't put it down.

Awesomesauce123: I guess you're my new FFGF (but only until my steady one is less busy, mmk? No hard feelings).

RomanticFaerie, Catharine, LA-EL-AS, Hikoru Aniki, Katara-Alechemist (HEART!), Taiyoukai89, lynxzpanther, magic_noctum, magical-archer, Lallie Owesome, Writers Cubed Jocelyn, Full Destiny -- thank you for keeping up with the story. It makes me happy to know I haven't lost you.

**I know there's more, but I really want to get this up already. Had to wait all day, because I can't login to FF anymore from work. Enjoy!**

-ARIVIAND


	37. Blistering

_"_Please pick up," Alec muttered for the third time, pacing the floor of the infirmary.

"We've got this, Alec. Hang up and help me hold her down!" Jace growled.

_Come on, come on_, Alec repeated silently, only to get Magnus's voicemail. Again.

Frustrated, he left a message this time: "Magnus. It's me. Isabelle was attacked on the subway. We tried an iratze. Clary tried a new rune too. It's just getting worse." He glanced over his shoulder and winced. "Please call me back. Bye."

Sliding his cell into his back pocket, Alec approached the bed again and nudged Clary out of the way. She was clenched onto Isabelle's arm with all her strength, and was immensely relieved to be demoted to holding her legs.

"You know, this would be a HELL of a lot easier if you'd STOP THRASHING!" Jace yelled at Isabelle. But she wasn't listening. Her dark hair was plastered to her face - one of the only places on her body that wasn't covered in hideous burns. At first it just looked like blistered skin. Then the blisters started opening. And as Isabelle twisted and thrashed in pain, the raw skin started to break and bleed.

"Oh my God," Clary said under her breath, horrified by the situation.

"Not helping, Clary," Jace hissed.

"We have to think of something else!" Clary said. "We can't just keep her pinned to the bed."

"And you think letting her roll over onto the floor would be beneficial?"

"What about a sedative?" Alec suggested.

"We'd need a really strong one."

"OK. Clary, start going through the cabinets. Look for Hodge's handwriting on any of the bottles. He had the best potions."

Isabelle started screaming again, a wordless, painful, ear-splitting cry that made it worse for everyone around her, already on edge.

"I can't deal with this," Jace muttered, sliding his hands beneath Isabelle's hair. "Sorry, Izz," he whispered, before cracking her neck to one side. Immediately the thrashing stopped and she went still.

"JACE! WHAT THE HELL?"

"Simmer down," he said, glaring at Alec. "I just put her out. She's fine. Well, she's unconscious, anyway."

Clary was desperately opening drawers, reading labels while she went. Nothing sounded useful, except maybe antiseptic to put on the burns. Then again, who's to say they would help? None of the young shadowhunters were clear on exactly what had attacked her - and Maryse and Robert Lightwood were absent. Official business, as usual.

Isabelle had left the Institute for ten minutes to grab some food for them. Alec got the call. There was no voice on the other end, just an open line and the roar of the subway in the background. All Isabelle had managed to do was speed dial his number and hold on the line. Fortunately, she hadn't gotten far. She hadn't actually gotten on the subway, so they found her and brought her back, thankful that she was invisible to the surrounding mundanes. There was no scene to avoid. Unfortunately, there were no witnesses either.

"Clary, get the red bottle," Jace said, still spotting Isabelle's right side - just in case she woke up.

"No!" Alec intervened, aghast. He remembered perfectly just how agonizing the bubbling antiseptic was. He was not sanctioning the use of The Red Bottle on Isabelle. "Jace, that stuff burned like demon poison. And she's already covered in burns. It would be too cruel."

"She not feeling anything, Alec. And when she wakes up, she won't be able to distinguish one burn from the other," Jace replied with impatience. "Would you rather she get a massive infection while we argue the point?"

"No."

"Then let me work my magic. It's the only thing we've got, until your boyfriend gets here."

Alec pursed his lips, but managed a reluctant nod.

"Clary. The bottle, please," Jace requested, holding out his hand.

* * *

Magnus was greeted by the sounds of screaming, stepping off the elevator into the empty sitting room of the Institute.

As chilling as the sound was, he felt a small measure of relief knowing they were feminine screams. It most certainly wasn't Alec.

_This time_. Frowning at the unappealing thought, Magnus escorted himself to the Infirmary. The sound of the screams grew louder, and the arguing voices came into focus as the warlock progressed down the hallway.

"Hold her down," Jace ordered.

"Don't snap her neck again!" Alec warned. "It's not worth ten minutes."

"I'm not. Hold her down," Jace barked. "Clary, get her legs."

"I'm trying!" Clary moaned, struggling to grab hold of her ankles.

"Someone call a warlock?" Magnus drawled, although that was before he was afforded a look into the room. From what he could see over Clary's slight frame - they were desperately in need of magical healing. And a pair of restraints might have come in handy too. If he'd known, he could have brought them from home.

"About time you penciled us in!" Jace rudely responded. His blond hair was streaked with blood, sticking to the sides of his face along with sweat.

"I can't send away paying customers," Magnus calmly replied, stepping further into the room. He could smell the blood, the burnt skin. And something else... his nostrils flared, burning.

"Do you have any idea what did this?" Alec asked from the left side of the bed, looking up at Magnus with hope. The shadowhunter trembled with the force necessary to restrain his sister. He looked drawn and tired, flecks of blood dotting his t-shirt. Was it wrong for Magnus to feel some measure of pleasure in seeing him wearing white? As opposed to the dreary, overworn black Magnus was perpetually trying to steer him away from.

"Several," Magnus replied, glancing back at Isabelle's twisting, badly burned and now bleeding body. It was fairly gruesome. Fortunately, she didn't seem very lucid - in spite of her reflexive struggling. "You'll have to leave me alone with her, so I can work."

"Who's going to hold her down?" Jace sneered, tossing the matted hair from his eyes.

"Not a problem," Magnus replied with a snap. Immediately, Isabelle's body went limp against the bed. Her tight expression smoothed out, looking oddly serene. Jace and Alec slowly took a step back from the bed, hesitant to believe it was over.

"Come on, shadowhunters. I need my space."

Clary released Isabelle's ankles with relief, turning to head out. She flicked a grateful glance up at Magnus before stepping out into the hall. Jace just looked annoyed as he ran a hand back through his sticky hair and followed her out.

Alec hesitated, coming around the bed and pausing at Magnus's side.

"I'm sorry, Alec. But I need to concentrate."

"I know. I just wanted to thank you for coming."

"You knew I would," Magnus replied, turning to look at him. Alec still had that soft look in his eyes. It could be gratitude or relief. Or maybe he was just happy to be in the warlock's presence again.

Magnus reached out and cupped Alec's cheek with his cool palm, stroking his moist face. Alec shivered.

"So you still have no problem calling me when someone else is in trouble," Magnus teased.

"You're still number 1 on my speed dial," Alec pointed out with a small smile. "If I were in her place, you'd be the first one I call."

His reply was sobering. Magnus lowered his hand and glanced distractedly back towards the bed. "I need to get started."

"Of course," Alec said, moving toward the door.

"Alec."

"Yes?" Alec replied, hand out against the doorframe as if to steady himself.

"Will you wait for me in your room?"

"OK."

"Do you remember the protection rune you used on the door?"

"Yes," Alec replied, the reminder of that night's argument making him frown.

"Use it."

But that would keep Magnus out too? Alec looked up at him in question, brow creased. Magnus looked very serious in his request, so Alec felt obliged to nod, promising that he would as soon as he was inside.

Magnus removed his coat, setting it aside on the neighboring bed. Alec quietly closed the door behind him, giving the warlock privacy to work. To save his sister.


	38. Beloved

Ten o'clock. Alec flipped his phone open and closed, not expecting a call or a text. It was just something easy and harmless to fidget with.

As Magnus requested, he'd drawn the protection rune on the door. No one was coming through uninvited. That was the point, wasn't it? Magnus was concerned that someone would attack again? They were down a team member, and Magnus wouldn't be immediately available. Not that Alec honestly thought anyone would break into the Institute.

Then again, who would have thought demons would take over Alicante? It was a nightmarish experience he didn't expect (or hope) to see again during his lifetime.

The longer he had to wait, the more concerned Alec became. Not for his own safety, of course – but for Isabelle. He knew it was serious. He wasn't expecting a quick fix. It must be taking a lot of energy, healing her. His worry was that there was something wrong – what if it was something even Magnus couldn't fix? What if his extraordinary healing magic wasn't enough? What if there was more to the burns, and like when they tried to apply the iratze, it just got worse? After all, he and Jace were baffled by her condition. Demon attacks usually looked like a really bad animal attack: bite marks, claw marks, puncture wounds. Not burns.

But Magnus had said he had several ideas who had hurt her. Or what, at least. Alec trusted him to do his best, and fully expected an exhausted, drained Magnus to show up at his door.

Two hours had lapsed. Alec was starting to get very restless. His bedroom was just that: a bed to sleep in, a small closet, and a storage for a few personal items. It was nothing like a mundane's bedroom, for example – no television, no radio, no game system. He had borrowed two books, but he wasn't interested in catching up on his reading. And there was no activity on his cell – why would there be? Magnus was busy.

At the two and a half hour mark, when Alec had removed his boots and curled up above the covers, attempting to catch up on some sleep, there was a soft pinging sound. He sat up sharply, looking towards the opposite wall.

His skin prickled. Slowly, he climbed down from the bed and grabbed his stele. His seraph blade was in his belt.

Listening for that sound again, Alec started when he heard his name on the other side of the bedroom door.

"Alec," Magnus sighed. "Please open the door." He sounded so tired.

Crossing the room quickly, Alec flipped the latch and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway (effectively ending the need for the rune). Magnus's shirt, once a neon green with a picture of Coney Island on the front, was stained with blood. Isabelle's blood. His coat was draped over his shoulder, his head cocked to one side. His face looked oddly pale, even his lips more white than pink. And his hair, while still in the styled spikes, appeared to be sagging.

"Come in," Alec urged, gently tugging on Magnus's arm. He didn't rush to ask if Isabelle was all right. He hoped the answer was obvious. Magnus had worked tirelessly for two and half hours. She must be all right.

"Clary is with her," Magnus said softly, as if he knew.

"That's good. Better Clary than Jace."

Magnus didn't argue, moving to sit down on the bed, his posture worse than usual. His back wasn't slouching, it was collapsing.

"What about you?" Alec asked, standing in front of him. "Are _you_ all right?"

"Yes, I will be. Out of commission for a few hours, though."

"Can I…get you anything?"

"Help me remove this shirt?" Magnus asked, making a face. He had an aversion to the blood.

Alec nodded, reaching for the ends of the t-shirt. Magnus lifted his arms over his head, and Alec peeled the cotton shirt upward along his torso, over his arms, and dropped it to the floor.

"Do you want to borrow a shirt?"

Magnus snickered. "A belly shirt, you mean?"

"Hm?"

"We're not quite the same size. You're big, I'm tall."

"I'm not big."

"And yet your shirt is loose on me. Does that mean I'm small?"

"You are, kind of. I mean, you're thin."

"Do you mind if I just stay like this for a while?"

"OK," Alec replied, then bit his lip.

"Is it too distracting?" Magnus asked.

The warlock's chest did shimmer with glitter all the way down to his waist, but it wasn't that. Alec was just debating.

"Do you want to remove your pants too? So you can lie down?" Alec asked softly.

"I would love to."

"OK."

Magnus rose again from the bed, weaving a bit. Alec's hand shot out, supporting his waist.

"Sorry. Punch drunk."

"You get the belt and the zipper, and I'll do the pulling," Alec offered, although his face was very red.

Magnus nodded, loosening the belt buckle, unsnapping the button, and dragging the zipper down on his pants.

Alec reached for the waistband of his pants, now hanging off his slender hips.

"Wait," Magnus said.

"What?"

"I don't wear underwear, Alec."

"OK," Alec replied, heartbeat thudding in his ears.

"I just wanted to warn you."

Alec nodded.

"Do you want me to change underneath the covers?"

"If you want."

Magnus's eyebrows shot up. "You're absolutely fine with this?"

"I just want to help," Alec whispered, lowering his eyes.

Magnus reached out to cup the shadowhunter's cheek again, only now his hand was very warm. Alec turned his head to kiss that hand.

"Ugh. I've got blood under my fingernails," Magnus noted.

"I'll help you wash your hands."

"I'm not completely useless."

"Just dead on your feet," Alec pointed out.

"Touché," Magnus replied.

Alec slid his arm around Magnus's waist, helping him to the bathroom. Once there, he hovered in the doorway while Magnus washed his hands, and scrubbed his nails with a fresh bar of soap. While he worked, Alec watched the light of the bathroom play off the glitter on his back.

"Thank you," Alec said after a minute, eyes on Magnus's reflection in the mirror. Magnus glanced up, meeting his eyes through the glass.

"You're welcome," he replied simply. He didn't smile.

That bothered Alec, these somber moments that just seemed so…un-Magnus. Something was bothering him, and it wasn't just the temporary loss of energy. Magnus was acting strangely when he first arrived at the Institute.

Wanting to chase away that unfamiliar Magnus, Alec pressed his mouth to the back of his bare shoulder, wondering if some of the glitter would rub off on his lips. Magnus watched him do it, and finally something warm shifted in his eyes.

He turned around and framed Alec's face with his wet hands, and then they were kissing. Alec moaned against his mouth, winding his arms around Magnus's waist for support – letting the warlock lean into him. And he did, sagging more than really leaning, though his mouth was strong against Alec's. Magnus's tongue eased between Alec's lips, and tangled with his.

Alec's fingertips dug into Magnus's lower back, above the drooping waistband of his pants. Magnus withdrew a bit, taking a breath, and nibbling his lower lip. Sucking in a fortifying breath of his own, Alec slid the ends of his fingers inside Magnus's pants, pushing the waistband down further.

Magnus lifted his head. Alec whimpered at the loss.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you," Alec breathed, looking up into Magnus's eyes with some effort.

Magnus shook his head. "And when you're traumatized from seeing me naked? I don't want it to be on my conscience because you thought you were doing me a favor. If you're ready to take that step, let me know. But let's not pretend it's just for my comfort." Though his choice of words were stern, Magnus's voice wasn't. His voice was soft and rough, that low rasp that Alec secretly loved.

Alec nodded, biting his lip again. It was a nervous gesture, but a lot less embarrassing than turning red every time he was uncomfortable. "I want to help," Alec replied, and then added in a whisper: "And I…wouldn't mind seeing you."

Magnus sucked in a breath, bringing his forehead closer, resting against Alec's.

"Let's go to bed."

Alec nodded, sliding his arm around Magnus's waist again, helping him across the room. He dragged the comforter back, unmaking the bed, then helped Magnus sit down again.

He'd almost forgotten about Magnus's boots. Alec knelt down, untying the laces for him.

"Is it wrong that I love watching you remove my shoes?" Magnus drawled.

Alec flicked a tentative smile back up at him, tugging off the first one. Then the second. Magnus's socks were rainbow. Of course.

"Leave them," Magnus suggested, withdrawing his legs on his own and sliding them up onto the bed.

Alec rose, removing his blood-flecked shirt as well, tossing it aside. Then he rounded the bed, unconsciously taking the same side as when they slept together at Magnus's place. He removed his belt and climbed up into bed, moving under the blanket.

"I'm sorry. It's not as warm as your comforter," Alec said.

"It's all right," Magnus replied. "We'll make do."

"Umm…what about your pants?"

"I'm shimmying them off right now," Magnus replied, with a grin. Alec thought he was just moving to get comfortable.

The weight of his pants hit the floor outside the bed, and finally Magnus lay back against the solitary pillow, face to face with Alec.

Alec breathed and blushed, and looked back into Magnus's eyes. Magnus lifted his hand, thumb caressing his jaw.

"She's going to be fine," he related, referring to Isabelle.

"I know."

"She will be sore, and in desperate need of a bath. But I healed the sum of the burns, and the mess she made of her skin."

"It wasn't her fault," Alec frowned.

"Not the attack, no. But the thrashing. I know, it was in response to the pain, but it didn't help. I'll bring you some restraints, in case you need them in the future."

"I think a strong sedative would have done just as well," Alec pointed out.

"Sorry, darling. I can't bottle up my snap."

Alec smiled a little, shaking his head. "But isn't there something else we could use?"

"There are a lot of things. But I'm spent for one night."

"We'll pay for it, of course."

Magnus scoffed, scooting closer. "No, you won't. I'm not charging."

Alec breathed in sharply as Magnus's leg brushed his through his pants.

"Whatever you can do."

Magnus nodded, eyes closed. He nuzzled Alec's cheek, running his nose along the ends of his hair. "You smell so good."

"Thank you?"

"Mm. I love you."

"I love you too," Alec replied, resting his hand on Magnus's side. When he decided that wasn't too weird, he fully embraced him, hugging the slim warlock closer.

The tension had completely gone out of Magnus's body. His back relaxed, his fingers trailed softly up and down Alec's arm, though slowing down. He murmured happily against Alec's hair.

The moment was so perfect, so unbearably _sweet_, Alec felt the unexpected prickle of tears, burning his eyes. He tried to blink them away. It was stupid to cry because he was…cuddling with his boyfriend.

Maybe it was mixed up with his relief that Isabelle was OK, and the release of stress after a very long day. He was so tired. Maybe that's what it was. He needed to sleep.

But when Magnus's mouth found his throat, pressing warm, wet kisses down to his collarbone, he decided with a shiver that sleep could wait a little while longer.


	39. Blessing

_Grrrr. This is the second chapter in a row where I lost half of the content and had to rewrite it. That's why the last one was a tad shorter than I originally planned. I suffered through the agitation though on this one and tried to save it._

_Please show the love and sympathy. It is a labor of love. Here you go._

* * *

Alec reached out and placed his hand on Clary's shoulder.

She sprung up in her chair, lifting her head. She had the knit of the blanket imprinted on her cheek, and a dried bit of drool at the corner of her mouth. He tried not to snicker.

"God, you scared me."

"I've got it from here. You can go to sleep in your own bed."

"Thanks," Clary replied, still groggy. She pushed the chair back and stretched. He glanced at Isabelle. Someone must have helped her into a nightshirt. Or she managed herself. Her hair was back in a simple braid, very dark against the starch white pillow. As Clary shuffled out of the infirmary, Alec took her seat, scooching it closer to Isabelle.

The scrape of the chair woke her up. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the semi-darkness. When she recognized Alec, she smiled. It was a soft, relieved smile.

"Hi."

" 'Morning," he greeted. "Are you up for anything? Coffee? Toast?"

"No," she murmured, closing her eyes again. But only for a few seconds. "I'm not hungry yet."

"Sorry I woke you."

"No, it's OK. I feel so stiff - like I've been sleeping for days."

"It's just the bed. You've been asleep for at least six hours."

"What time is it?"

"6 am."

"Then I guess I should get up," she said, moving to sit up. Alec got to his feet, ready to help her. But she managed without any apparent pain, giving him a strange look.

"I'm OK," she reassured.

"I know."

"So, stop freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out. Just...here to help."

"You could have slept in."

"Since when do I do that?"

"Since Magnus stayed over."

"How did you know that?" Alec challenged, sitting back down in the chair with a frown.

"Clary told me."

"So you know he 'magicked' you better."

"Yeah. And I'm totally in his debt."

"You're fine," Alec said dismissively, waving it away.

"I'm going to bake him the biggest thank you cake."

"Umm, Izzy, that's not--"

"Kidding," Isabelle admitted, with a little laugh. "I know it would be the worst cake in the history of the world. The anti-Betty Crocker. But the gesture would be real. I _am_ grateful."

"Isabelle," Alec began, resting his hand against the blanket over the indention of her knee. "Can I ask if you remember anything about last night?"

"Just the pain," she admitted, with a shudder.

"So you didn't...see anyone? Or hear anything before it happened?" he tried to ask delicately.

"I was in the subway. It was hard to hear anything distinct. And I was looking at my cell phone. I had it in my hand. I was going to call you to ask what kind of soup Clary wanted, and I clicked send and then... I guess I blacked out."

"So you don't remember us coming for you, or the hours after that?"

"Kind of? I don't remember seeing any of you or what you said, just that it really hurt and I was so hot, and my tongue got stuck. All I could do was scream. It was like I was trapped in my own body."

Alec nodded soberly, remembering the awful sound of her screaming.

"Sorry. I know that's no help whatsoever," Isabelle said, sounding frustrated.

"It's not important. You're better, and no one else was hurt."

"How's Magnus?"

"Worn out. He's still fast sleep."

"In your room?" Isabelle asked, with a half-smile.

"Yes."

"In your bed?"

"No, I made him take the floor," Alec replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'm glad. You totally needed a push in the right direction."

"We have slept together before," Alec replied, then blushed - realizing how that sounded. "I mean - in the same bed. Literally, slept. Together. You know what I mean!" he snapped.

"So that's all you did? Sleep?"

"Yes," Alec replied, though he looked away.

"Kissed?"

"I'm not talking to you about this."

"So that's a yes," Isabelle grinned. "Did you make out?"

Alec got up. "I'm leaving. You're obviously fine, and I need to take a shower."

"Don't go!" Isabelle said, reaching out. Alec looked back, surprised by the fear he registered there in her face.

"Just...can you sit with me for a while?" she asked softly, sitting back against the pillows.

"Sure."

"I was having a nightmare before you came in."

"What was it about?"

"Fire."

"Oh." Alec frowned. "Well, I guess that's understandable. You were burned really bad."

Isabelle nodded, tugging the blanket back up.

"But it doesn't hurt anymore, right?"

"No. My back is a little sore, but it's probably just from the bed, like you said."

"Well, I guess you could sleep in your room now, if you want."

"It's fine. The AC isn't an ice box in here."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Alec said, smiling. He was always freezing in his room, even fully clothed beneath the blanket.

He waited until she fell back asleep. And even then, he waited another fifteen minutes, just watching her - making sure she was OK. No more nightmares.

Thinking it might comfort her somehow if she woke up, Alec removed his stele, setting it down by her hand. Then he got up and returned to his room, where Magnus was still asleep.

Magnus's dark hair obscured his profile, his face still inclined to the right - where Alec had been, sharing the same pillow. Whereas Alec had slept with the comforter up to his shoulders, needing the warmth, Magnus had it bunched down at his waist. Alec couldn't imagine how that was comfortable. From where he stood in the doorway, the cool air made him shiver.

Instead of unsettling Magnus in bed, Alec sat down in the only chair in the room, watching him sleep. His skin still glittered in the darkness. His shimmering hand was splayed against the sheet beside him, as if reaching out toward Alec. Those long fingers twitched once. Alec smiled, stretching out his legs, watching the warlock dream.

- - -

"How long have you been staring at me?"

Alec lifted his head, not realizing Magnus's eyes were open in the dark. And watching him. "Not long."

Magnus rolled over onto his back with a sigh. When he stretched, his legs extended well beyond the end of the bed.

"Sorry," Alec muttered.

"What for?"

"Making you squeeze into my mattress."

"You didn't make me do anything. I was so exhausted last night, I would have happily curled up in a twin. Besides, you're the perfect cushion."

Alec's face warmed, and he caught the white of Magnus's smile in the darkness.

"So you saw your sister?" Magnus guessed, assuming it would be the first thing on his agenda upon waking. After throwing on his clothes.

Alec nodded. "She looks good, and she's feeling better. Just tired and sore, like you said."

"Good," Magnus replied, running his fingers back through his unkempt hair.

"She doesn't remember what happened," Alec said, the disappointment apparent in his voice. "Nothing of the attack, or what happened after."

"That might be a blessing."

Alec frowned. "But without knowing what attacked her, we have no way of preventing it in the future."

"It's not a matter of what, but of whom."

"Do you know who did this?" Alec replied, sitting forward with his hands on his knees.

"I have an idea."

"Who, then?"

"Daniel Wyrick."

Alec frowned. It hadn't even occurred to him. Would the rogue warlock really be foolish enough to return to New York, knowing they were looking for him? He was a fugitive, already having escaped capture once. Now they were that much more determined to find him and turn him over. Surely Wyrick would know that, and stay far away.

On the other hand, Alec thought back to his nightmare the other night. What if it had been real, and not just his subconscious scaring him?

_Tell your children I'm coming for them. Will you do that for me_? The warlock had taunted his mother.

But Maryse Lightwood hadn't mentioned anything of Daniel Wyrick threatening to return and hurt them, not when she originally arrived, not when they spoke in private. Or when they all met aroud the table in the Library. That hadn't even factored the possibility into their discussion of strategies.

Why hadn't she mentioned anything? Either because it was just his imagination, or perhaps - a matter of pride. She didn't want to recognize that they might be in danger. Maybe she was convinced they would find him first, before he had the chance.

But pride had no place in the matter. Pride wasn't going to protect anyone. Isabelle had been attacked in the subway, not far from the Institute. That would explain why Magnus suggested he use the protection rune on the door - he suspected the warlock, and thought Wyrick might breach the Institute itself. But if he really was that bold - or that powerful, then neither Jace nor Clary, nor his mother or father, or even Magnus himself were safe as long as Wyrick was free and bent on revenge.

While Alec didn't understand why he was determined to hurt them - when they had only been charged with sending him to the Gard, and would have taken him without force if only he cooperated, he had seen the volatile nature of the warlock. The crazed look in his eyes. The sound of his booming voice, ordering them to leave his apartment. He was angry, and bitter. And very likely wanting to inflict his pain on someone else.

"Could he have caused burns like that?"

"Easily," Magnus replied, in a low voice that made Alec shiver. "It could have been a spell, or perhaps some kind of poison. That's what it sounded like from your phone call, when you described the progressive nature of the burns. It only got worse when you applied the iratze, correct?"

Alec nodded. "That's when she started thrashing."

"He could have set her on fire, and left it at that. It would have been very easy to do in anger. But he didn't want it to be quick. He thought about it, and planned it. I assume he wanted her to suffer - and for you to find her."

Alec shuddered again. "And then watch it get worse? In spite of our best efforts."

Magnus nodded soberly. "It has an ironic ring, don't you think?"

Alec rose from the chair, fists balled. "What do you suggest we do? How do we fight a warlock with no respect for the law?"

Magnus lowered his chin, his dark hair falling forward into his face. He plucked at the rumpled sheet, lips pursed. "I wish you would lock yourself in this room and draw a protection rune on the door, and not come out until this is over. But I know you won't agree to that."

Alec shook his head. Magnus sighed, even though he knew that would be the response.

"Then my best suggestion would be to let me give you the protection rune. At least then when you leave, I'll know you are safe."

"Is it foolproof?"

"It will only protect you from a magical attack. I assume you've got the rest covered."

Alec appeared to consider for a few seconds, running a hand back through his hair. "All right. But everyone gets them. I'm not the only one in danger."

"Fine," Magnus agreed, lips pursed in distaste. "But I'm not kissing them."

Alec laughed, taking a seat against the edge of the bed. "That's not the only way to apply the runes, is it?"

"No, it's just my favorite," Magnus admitted, with a smirk. Alec blushed, glancing down at the rumpled sheet.

"So," Magnus sat up, scooting closer. "Where do you want them?"

"Just one."

"Three would have more effective."

"One."

"What about two?" Magnus tried.

"Fine," Alec compromised.

"Lift up your shirt," Magnus instructed. Alec reached for the edge of the t-shirt, jerking it up a few inches. Magnus wiggled his fingers, gesturing for him to lift it higher.

Not willing to sit there holding his shirt in one hand, Alec just lifted it over his head and set it aside on the bed. Magnus's lip twitched, but he wasn't going to argue. When he lowered his head, Alec sucked in a breath, holding it while Magnus pressed his mouth to the center of his chest.

It felt just like a kiss, until the warm tingle started and spread. Alec tried not to moan, his hand twitching against the bed. Magnus's tongue flickered out, teasing the hot skin a moment, before withdrawing.

Letting his breath out in a rush, Alec glanced down. Sure enough, there was a mark where Magnus's mouth had been. He marveled at the new rune.

"Now, your pants."

"Not a chance," Alec replied. Magnus chuckled.

"Fine. Then turn around, and we'll make it symmetrical."

Alec obeyed, moving to sit with his back facing Magnus. Again, his mouth descended. Again, the burn spread across his back. Alec fought not to shiver.

When he was done, Magnus stroked his side, and pressed a simple kiss to his shoulder.

"One down. Five more to go?"

"Sounds about right," Alec agreed, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Guess I better take a shower, then and find something to wear."

"You can go back to sleep for a little while, if you want. I don't think anyone else is up yet."

But Magnus shook his head. "I'll have to do my hair. I better get started now."

"OK," Alec said, with a small smile.

Magnus kissed his cheek, then slid out out of bed. Alec forgot to look away as the comforter slipped and Magnus padded naked across the room to the bathroom. Even in the darkness, the glitter shimmered all over his body, hiding no curve or slender line from his eyes.

Alec averted his cheek with a gasp, face burning.

Magnus's throaty chuckle didn't help. At least he had the decency to close the bathroom door after him.


	40. Brash

"Thanks, but no thanks," Jace replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jace," Alec said, disapproval making his name sound sour.

They were all convened in the sitting room. Alec was leaning against the arm of the couch, one ankle crossed over the other, his hand resting on the fabric inches from Magnus's hand. Occasionally, the warlock brushed fingertips with him, reassuring him as he explained the need for the protective runes to everyone, and let them know that Magnus was willing to mark them all. It was absolutely painless (he managed that without blushing), and added that it would ward off magical attacks. That would include, but not be limited to the use of Wyrick's energy-throwing, telekinesis (anything that Magnus typically managed with a snap or a wave of his hand), and close-range spells.

Magnus had interrupted and explained that they weren't just dealing with a physical threat here. Wyrick could use spells that could hurt them from a distance, or lay a time-release trap like what happened to Isabelle, only made worse by their use of an iratze. He could also influence their dreams, as well as manipulate their memories.

Alec wasn't surprised when Jace refused to be marked, but he wasn't going to give up at the first try.

"Hey, you can have mine," Jace suggested, teasing him.

"That works for me," Magnus drawled, and Alec shot him a look.

"I'm covered. You're not. And that's the point. We're all going to do this Jace - so you're not going to look like the hero for sitting out. Don't be so stubborn."

"Clary can hit me up if I change my mind."

Sighing in frustration, Alec shifted gears, looking at Clary instead - who sat quietly beside a standing Jace on the sofa across from Alec and Magnus. "You're going to do this, right?"

Clary nodded, glance flickering vaguely to her right and back to Alec. "I trust you. Both of you."

"Thanks, cupcake," Magnus replied. "I'll mark you first."

"Isabelle?" Alec asked. She sat on the table between them, legs folded, hands on her bent knees - taking it in.

She appeared to shudder before answering: "Yeah. I'm fine with it. I trust Magnus too. I'd be an idiot to refuse his help now." She looked pointedly over at Jace, with a sardonic twist to her mouth.

Magnus leaned forward and extended a long arm. To his surprise, Isabelle shifted her attention back to him and lifted her hand from her knee, holding it out for him - without a word passing between them. Magnus took her hand and kissed it. Jace made a gagging sound. Alec flushed faintly, experiencing an irrational jolt of jealousy. Isabelle probably noticed his frown. She smiled a little.

When Magnus lifted his head again, a rune exactly like the one on Alec's chest and back was there, freshly marking the top of her hand.

"Thanks," Isabelle said, retracting her hand and inspecting the mark.

"How does it feel, letting your brother's boyfriend slobber all over you?" Jace inquired. Clary stomped on his booted foot, with a sound of outraged disbelief.

Alec grimaced, about to say something when Magnus placed his hand flat over his, gently rubbing. _It's not worth it. I can handle Jace._

"Surprisingly good," Isabelle retorted, glaring at him. Then she felt the need to tack on: "Thanks again, Magnus."

"Anytime," the warlock winked, before his lazy eyes met Jace's stare. It was a look of warning.

"Are you still resolved to be an idiot?" Alec asked Jace, straightening up and squaring his shoulders as he said it.

"I'll pass," Jace confirmed.

"So you're OK with being burned? Or frozen again?" Alec asked, brows raised. "Because I don't remember you coming off that humiliation easily."

Jace straightened up as well. "He caught me by surprise. I know better now."

"Obviously not," Isabelle muttered.

"Just do it, Jace," Clary suggested, reaching out to take his hand. He looked like he wanted to jerk it away, but he didn't, linking his fingers with hers, shaking his head.

"Don't bother, darling. Jace is a big boy," Magnus said in a soothing voice, although he was clearly mocking the shadowhunter. "He's not afraid of anything, remember?"

"I never said that."

"Are you afraid of me?" Magnus inquired, brows raised. "You know, I don't have to kiss you to apply the runes. It won't be a blow to your masculinity to physically accept the offer."

"But I bet you'd love to get your mouth on me," Jace purred, teasing him.

"Right up there with drinking antifreeze," Magnus replied, with a tight smile.

"Have you tried it? It's actually really _sweet_."

"How do you know?" Clary asked, lifting her head to look up at him with concern.

"It's common knowledge."

"I didn't know that," Alec replied.

"Shocking," Jace drawled.

Isabelle cracked her hand against the table like a whip. "Shut up, Jace. If you're not going to do it, then there's no point wasting any more time. You want to be the next one he attacks, fine. You've always had a death wish."

"Don't, Isabelle," Clary said, scooting to the edge of the sofa and leaning into Jace's side. Standing up probably would have brought her to a similar height.

"It's fine." Jace shrugged, showing that he wasn't bothered by it. "I'm sure it seems that way. But I don't want to die. No offense Magnus, but the way I figure, this rune will only protect us during face-to-face combat. So he won't be able to pull any rabid rabbits out of a hat. That's a comforting thought, but what's going to stop him from going back to the drawing board and thinking up a long-distance spell? Or calling on a posse of Forsaken? Or conjuring a whole crew of demons? If he can't do the job alone, I'm sure he's not going to give up and start throwing pipe bombs."

"You're not wrong," Magnus replied, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and his head in his hand. He looked bored. "I can't make you invincible. Not that you'd find that any fun."

Jace agreed with a snicker.

"This is the best I can do," Magnus admitted and shrugged one shoulder.

"It's something," Alec said, one hand hidden behind Magnus's back, gently rubbing through the warlock's shirt.

"The rest is all you, shadowhunter. I'm just trying to level the playing field a bit for you."

"Yeah. Well, I never cared about a fair fight. I'm more concerned with finding this guy and sticking it to him. Have you had any luck with that?"

Magnus lowered his lashes, pausing long enough to catch Alec's attention. He leaned to the left so he could study Magnus's face.

"What is it?"

"He was here."

"What?" Jace and Alec spoke at the same time, staring intently at Magnus - who appeared to be studying a speck on the floor.

"In the Institute?" Isabelle asked, stiffening.

"In New York?" Clary asked, biting her lip.

"He paid me a visit at my place."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Alec asked, pushing off the arm of the couch, glaring down at Magnus with accusation and hurt.

"I didn't want to worry you. It happened before you called, before I came to heal Isabelle."

"You knew about this yesterday?" Jace asked, then scoffed. "Way to go, team."

"It was just a projection," Magnus clarified, sitting back. "He wasn't really in Brooklyn, or the state - for all I know. I haven't made any progress with the location spell, and he knows it."

"So, what, he came to taunt you?" Jace asked.

"What happened?" Alec insisted.

"I told him to turn himself in, he said not a chance. He pushed my buttons, I sent him packing."

"That's it?" Jace asked, doubtful.

"We didn't have a secret handshake or an epic battle. I tried to issue a friendly warning, and all else considered, he was...remarkably civil."

"He's a wanted criminal," Alec pointed out, glowering.

"I know that," Magnus said slowly, patiently, glancing up at Alec. "And if he had come in the flesh, I would have found a way to let you know so that you could have rushed in and saved the day. But there was nothing you could have done."

"If we had known he made an appearance, maybe we could have anticipated--"

"You think my telling you would have spared Isabelle?"

"Maybe? We would have been more cautious."

"And maybe he would have come for her here, instead. That's a possibility now. We should remember that."

"Do you want to mark all the doors, too?" Jace asked, mocking.

"We can't be too careful," Isabelle said, interrupting. "That's all Magnus is trying to say."

"Yes," Magnus replied, glancing over at Isabelle. They exchanged a look of understanding and Isabelle nodded. "No one will be safe until he is remanded. And I am doing everything I can to help you."

"I'll just bet. So you're still working on the next location spell when you're in bed with Alec all night?"

"That's enough!" Alec growled, taking an aggressive step toward his parabatai.

"Touchy."

"You've crossed the line, and you know it."

"Sorry. I thought your boyfriend went there first. He spent yesterday afternoon chatting up the enemy," Jace replied, hostile more than sarcastic. Their quasi-playful catfight had escalated to full on verbal war, courtesy of his newfound distrust of Magnus.

"And last night healing Isabelle, when we couldn't do a thing to stop her suffering!" Alec replied, upper lip drawing back. "And now he's offering to protect us from the same, and you callously refuse his offer and proceed to mock him, when we all accept his help without question."

"Well, I think it's obvious to everyone here why you eagerly hopped into bed - er, onto that bandwagon. And Isabelle would do anything he says at this point out of gratitude. Clary's just being nice. I'm the only unbiased one in the room, so forgive me if I'm not making the popular choice."

Magnus rose lazily to his feet, though the unexpected maneuver on the part of a very tall warlock still attracted everyone's attention, effectively shutting them up. "Before this degenerates into an episode of Springer, I figured I'd head back to my flat and feed the cat. Especially if you're going to start throwing seraph blades."

"You don't have to go," Alec said, reaching out to press Magnus's arm.

"I really do. There's no love in this room."

"But--"

Magnus leaned in and kissed Alec full on the mouth, making an elaborate show of sucking on his lower lip before deepening the kiss. Alec swayed toward him, using a hand against Magnus's chest to steady himself. But the kiss was over in a moment, Magnus's hand cupping Alec's cheek.

"Call me," he breathed against the shadowhunter's mouth before lifting his head.

Magnus glanced over at Jace with a sweet smile and he waved before heading to the elevator.

Clary seemed to remember something, following Magnus out.


	41. Badge

The anger in the room was palpable. But instead of everyone unleashing at once, Alec sat back down on the arm of the couch, refusing to look at Jace, Isabelle stretched her legs out and glared at Jace, and Jace curled the fingers of one hand, inspecting his nails - while his other hand rested idly on his belt, in the ready.

The elevator clanged and Clary stepped off. All three of the remaining shadowhunters turned to watch her as she walked back into the sitting room. Needless to say, she looked tense and jumpy, looking at Jace for an explanation.

"So, what's going on?"

"You've joined the club now, too?" he asked, glancing down at the new rune at her wrist.

"I said I would," she replied, chin going up.

"Good girl," Jace said, though it sounded condescending.

"What is your problem?" Alec demanded, arms folded across his chest.

"I don't have a problem."

"Apparently you do. We expect sarcastic from you - but not mean. Magnus didn't deserve that."

Jace shrugged, not seeing the big deal in his behavior. "I just wanted him to leave."

Alec scoffed. "You couldn't have asked him?"

"You think that would have worked?"

"It would have been the mature way to deal with it," Isabelle muttered, flexing her toes.

"Says the sixteen year-old."

"I'm a woman. That practically makes me 32, to your 12."

"Ouch."

"Jace," Alec said, unwilling to be sidetracked by his siblings. "Do you have a problem with our relationship? Is that it?"

"Don't be a drama queen. I don't care what you do betwixt the sheets, as long as you do it on your own time."

"So you dragged all that into the open why?"

"Because that's how you win a fight, Alec. You look for weak spots and you play dirty."

"It wasn't a fight! Even if you tried your best to start one."

"Props to Magnus for taking it like a pro," Isabelle noted, working out a cramp in her calf.

"I was pissed, and I vented - without breaking any furniture. You should be proud."

"Why were you pissed?"

"Why weren't you?" Jace asked, turning the question around. "Your boyfriend just admitted that he had a tête-à-tête with the same guy we've been looking for - the same guy that tried to kill your sister and your mom, and you're not the least bit angry that he _just_ got around to telling you? Do you actually buy that crap about not wanting to worry you?"

"I trust him."

"Well, that's your problem. My reaction was justified. And I don't feel obligated to trust a warlock, no matter what he's done in the past. Daniel Wyrick--"

"Don't even go there," Alec warned in a low voice, balling his fists.

"Think about it, Alec. Just get your mind out of his ass for one second and try to look at it clearly. First off, we've only known him for, what, a few weeks?"

"That doesn't matter."

"OK. Then let's look at what else we know about him. 'Magnus Bane' wasn't even originally his name. Has he ever told you about his life before now? Other than that preview at the party?"

"No, but that's not--"

"Do you know if he's really three hundred years old? Or eight hundred? Because it changes depending on the day of the week."

"That's not important. He still looks--"

"Tre haut. Yeah. Moving on."

Clary encircled Jace's wrist, gently giving his arm a tug. "Jace. Please don't."

"I'm explaining myself. Alec wants an explanation."

"An apology would suffice."

"Well, I'm not sorry."

"Then just go," Alec replied, letting his breath out slowly, trying hard to remain calm.

"You are my family," Jace said, his voice rich with unexpected feeling. Clary curled her small fingers around his, and Isabelle glanced up. Alec waited. "Everyone in this room, and Robert and Maryse. I trust _you_. I would give my life for every one of you, and I know you would do the same for me. I'm sorry if I'm messed up and I have major trust issues - but that kind of trust has to be earned over time, and Magnus hasn't received his honorary badge with me yet."

Alec looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he pressed his lips together.

"I'm sorry," Jace repeated, setting a new record. "But he can't hop on that train by default, just because he's dating you."

"Do you honestly believe he's working with Daniel Wyrick?"

"No."

"Then why--"

"He shouldn't have withheld information like that from us. If Daniel Wyrick shows up, even if he's just a transparent slide show, we need to know. And we need to know when it happens, not the day after."

"I think you got that point across," Isabelle said.

"I don't feel comfortable being so dependent on someone else, especially if he's not going to be 100% committed."

"Jace, he can't possibly look for Wyrick every hour of the day. It's exhausting, and he does have a life outside of helping us."

"I know. That's not what I meant. I'm still talking about trust. Worrying about upsetting you is not a good enough reason for withholding information."

"You would have done the same," Clary spoke up suddenly, though giving his hand a squeeze.

"No, I wouldn't," Jace scoffed.

"Yes, you would," Clary slowly replied, looking up into Jace's face. "How many times did you go after Valentine without letting anyone know? How many times do you race ahead into a fight without passing on the call? You do what you think is right, and you take crazy risks doing it. I know part of it's because you're hungry for the fight, but it's also because you don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Jace didn't reply immediately, though he did raise their linked hands, caressing Clary's cheek with his knuckles.

"It's true," Clary said, when he didn't bother to disagree. "Why can't you believe it coming from Magnus?"

"Maybe because I'd never admit something like that out loud."

"Well, he's not as squeamish as you are when it comes to emoting," Isabelle pointed out.

"He's gay."

"He's several hundred years old," Alec defended.

"Which means he's matured at least past his forties," Isabelle decided, with a faint smile.

"No wonder you're so perfect together," Jace retorted.

"Shut up," Alec replied, dragging a weary hand back through his hair.

"I'm not going to send him a fire message, apologizing for being an ass," Jace said, thumb brushing Clary's face distractedly. She lowered her lashes, clasping his hand. "But if you want to shoot him a text and explain away my behavior, that's fine."

"I'm sure he's over it by now," Alec sighed, envious of how casual Magnus had managed to be at the time. And in general. He longed for control like that. He didn't have centuries to perfect it.

"Then we're excused?" Jace asked, leaning down to kiss Clary's forehead.

Alec nodded, nudging the carpet with the toe of his boot. "Go ahead."

* * *

**Alec:  
**I'm sorry.

**Magnus:**  
Whatever for?

**Alec:**  
Jace.

**Magnus:**  
Psh. I don't sweat him, darling.

**Alec:**  
Well, I don't like it and I let him know.

**Magnus:**  
Good for you. Thank you for protecting my honor.

**Alec:**  
Anytime.

**Magnus:**  
So, did a pissed off witch shove a broomstick up his ass?

**Alec:**  
He's lucky it wasn't a warlock.

**Magnus:**  
I don't even own a broom.

**Alec:**  
I'll buy you one for Christmas.

**Magnus:**  
For flying or domestic duties?

**Alec:**  
I'll sweep your kitchen and your bathroom, then you can have it.

**Magnus:**  
Maybe you should give it to me in time for Halloween, then.

**Alec:**  
Wouldn't that be cliche?

**Magnus:**  
I'll put my own spin on it. I'll call it a Magnus 2000

**Alec:**  
Why 2000?

**Magnus:**  
Never mind.

**Alec:**  
How old are you?

**Magnus:**  
Eight hundred years, give or take a decade. But I told you that.

**Alec:**  
Yeah.

**Magnus:**  
I'm not 2,000 years old.

**Alec:**  
That's good.

**Magnus:**  
That would rock, though. I could have walked with Jesus.

**Alec:**  
Ummm.

**Magnus:**  
Yeah, I know. That sounds kind of sacrilegious. Not my intention.

**Alec:**  
I live in an old church. But I'm not that religious.

**Magnus:**  
You believe in angels.

**Alec:**  
And I believe in demons - but only because I know they're real. That's not faith.

**Magnus:**  
True. There has to be some kind of mystery.

**Alec:**  
Yeah. And while angels are divine, they're still messengers to God.

**Magnus:**  
And working for the man doesn't necessarily guarantee a private meeting.

**Alec:**  
I'm not sure I'd want to meet Him.

**Magnus:**  
I'd probably piss myself.

**Alec:**  
Ugh.

**Magnus:**  
Or swoon. Or burst into flame?

**Alec:**  
Stop it.

**Magnus:**  
Sorry.

**Alec:**  
Do you really think that?

**Magnus:**  
What? That I'm damned? A spawn of Satan? Hellbound?

**Alec:**  
Yes.

**Magnus:**  
It's in my blood. You understand that.

**Alec:**  
But the blood of the Angel doesn't make me blameless. Or guarantee I'm going to Heaven.

**Magnus:**  
You're a good person. In spite of your profession.

**Alec:**  
So are you.

**Magnus:**  
And that's why I love you.

**Alec:**  
It's not because I'm biased.

**Magnus:**  
But you are biased.

**Alec:**  
I know you.

**Magnus:**  
I like that.

**Alec:**  
Magnus.

**Magnus:**  
Alec.

**Alec:**  
You're not evil.

**Magnus:**  
Wait til you see me on Halloween.

**Alec:**  
I give up.

**Magnus:**  
I've got to go.

**Alec:**  
I should too.

**Magnus:**  
Why don't I bring you dinner?

**Alec:**  
Here?

**Magnus:**  
You think I should treat everyone?

**Alec:**  
I can pay you for it.

**Magnus:**  
Does that ever work?

**Alec:**  
I keep trying.

**Magnus:**  
I just like watching you reach for your wallet.

**Alec:**  
Why?

**Magnus:**  
No reason.

**Alec:**  
?

**Magnus:**  
I'll call you when I'm on the way.

**Alec:**  
I'll meet you outside.

**Magnus:**  
How about you meet me at the elevator?

**Alec:**  
OK.

**Magnus:**  
Kisses.

**Alec:**  
Blush.

**Magnus:**  
LOL!

**Alec:**  
~_-

**Magnus:**  
OMG. You - are - perfect.

**Alec:**  
Impossible.

**Magnus:**  
Too cute.

**Alec:**  
I thought you'd like it.

**Magnus:**  
LOVED it.

**Alec:**  
Thanks.

**Magnus:**  
Jace?

**Alec:**  
Huh?

**Magnus:**  
Isabelle?

**Alec:**  
I'm lost.

**Magnus:**  
Just wanted to make sure they hadn't commandeered your cell.

**Alec:**  
How does that prove anything?

**Magnus:**  
Hmm. What color underwear was I wearing last night?

**Alec:**  
MAGNUS!

**Magnus:**  
I'm waiting.

**Alec:**  
That's not appropriate. Especially over an allegedly stolen cell phone.

**Magnus:**  
It's inside information. So, what color?

**Alec:**  
You weren't.

**Magnus:**  
What's that?

**Alec:**  
Wearing them...

**Magnus:**  
You are correct. But I knew it was you.

**Alec:**  
How?

**Magnus:**  
Jace isn't sweet. And you can't help it.

**Alec:**  
I thought you had to go.

**Magnus:**  
So I do.


	42. Blend

"Pick Your Pie," Alec read off one of the pizza boxes. It sounded like a perfectly normal, innocuous pizza place.

Unfortunately when Magnus stepped off the elevator and Alec offered to relieve him of half the boxes, the first smell that hit his nose was...fishy.

Literally and figuratively.

Toasted bread, garlic, cheese, tomatoes, various red meat, onions, and oregano – these were the scents he was used to breathing in when pizza was around.

Not _this_.

"Love it," Magnus remarked, humming with two boxes of pizza balanced in his arms, along with a bottle of wine. He couldn't have just grabbed a two-liter of soda?

"What did you order?" Alec inquired, looking skeptically over at the warlock as they walked side by side down the hall.

"Well, I thought about ordering the specials of the day: Bats in the Bell-Pepper or Ride of the Valkyries, but I wasn't sure if they'd result in a bad case of heartburn or transfiguration, so I went with what I know."

"Are we talking spells or food?" Alec asked, brows knit.

"Both, darling. It's a Downworlder kitchen. You get more than your mundane ingredients."

"So you're saying eating the pizza might turn us into a bat?"

"Not these pizzas. I'm almost completely sure."

Alec still looked leery of the offering of food, though trying not to come across as ungrateful. Tentatively, he had to ask: "What's that smell?"

"I got that one for Jace. It's called the Beached Mermaid."

Alec snorted. "He's not going to eat something that smells like a rotting fish market." So much for being tactful.

"Just you wait," Magnus winked, undeterred.

"What are the others?"

"Well, the veggie pie with the incredibly hot peppers is Faery Christmas. The meat lovers with a twist is obviously Hungry Like the Wolf." Magnus snickered, and Alec couldn't help laughing.

"Are you making this up?"

"Never. I'll take you there some time."

Aled nodded, the mood changing. It reminded him that they were pretty much on house arrest at the moment, save for when they got a call. Everyone, but Jace agreed it was for the best and Alec had proposed a spring, er, late summer cleaning of the Institute. That idea wasn't incredibly popular, so he had spent the balance of the day scrubbing floors and doors by himself, while Jace and Clary trained and Isabelle holed herself off in her room, presumably on her phone.

What's this?" Alec inquired, setting the smaller, narrow box down on the counter.

"Breadsticks."

"That's it?" Alec taunted, brows raised. "Just plain old breadsticks?"

"I brought sauce?" Magnus pointed out, picking up the sealed cups of garlic and marinara dipping sauce.

"So they only go wild with pizza names?"

"Pretty much. Mundanes think it's all a joke and they typically steer clear of the specialty pizzas – because of the unfamiliar ingredients and, as you put it, the unusual smells."

"Yeah. I can understand that."

"But plain old breadsticks are always safe."

"Let me tell everyone the food is here," Alec proposed. "Can you get out the plates and a few sodas-"

Magnus reached out to stop Alec as he tried to leave the kitchen, his fingers gently stroking the inside of his wrist.

"I'm hungry," Alec objected, not wanting to wait.

"Me too," Magnus agreed. "But I won't get another moment alone with you until after dinner, and considering the amount of food I brought (and how much you Nephilim can throw down in a single meal), that could be a while."

"Can't we just—"

"No," Magnus replied, resolute. He reeled Alec in by his wrist, then framed the boy's sides, looking down at him with lips pursed. "I just sprang for this excellent feast. I commuted between burroughs – at my own risk, to bring you the best Italian this city has to offer. Don't you think I deserve a small gesture of gratitude?"

"Define 'small gesture of gratitude'," Alec replied, trying to keep his expression serious, if a bit impatient, brows raised in question.

"A kiss?" Magnus proposed, lip twitching. "With a little tongue, obviously—"

Alec made an semi-frustrated/embarrassed sound, not wanting to hear anymore along those lines. Instead, he leaned in and cut the warlock off by pressing his mouth flat against Magnus's.

Of course, that was all Magnus wanted, and so he lifted one of his hands from Alec's hips, long fingers twining around the ends of Alec's hair as the kiss deepened.

Magnus took a step to the side and turned, and Alec went with him. Alec was leaning back into the counter and Magnus was leaning into him, his thigh sliding between Alec's long legs. Alec gasped, his hand coming up to push at Magnus's shoulder, trying to force him back. This was going a little far beyond a 'small gesture of gratitude' into make-out territory. And the kitchen was a communal room. Anyone could walk in--

"Ummm, what's that smell?"

Alec broke off instantly and turned away, opening the first drawer within reach. It was full of spatulas and serious carving knives. Although the pizza was probably pre-sliced, he removed a rolling pizza-cutter, needing an excuse.

"Dinner."

"Ugh," Simon said, leaning in the doorway, acting like he hadn't seen anything. And maybe he hadn't. He was too distracted by the unappealing reek coming from the pizza boxes. "I thought Isabelle was over cooking."

"My apologies," Magnus replied, though he sniffed indignantly at the comparison. "But I wouldn't expect a vampire to have excellent taste in pizza."

"I used to love pizza."

"And I used to be a virgin. Those days are over."

Alec shot Magnus an appalled look, then managed to glance over his shoulder at the vampire, brows raised as if in accusation. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing awesome, how are you?" Simon replied with a humorless smile.

"Clary ask you over for dinner? How sweet of her to offer up her boyfriend again," Magnus drawled.

"Again?" Alec asked, brow furrowed.

"No, she didn't mention anything about food. I caught a bite on the way over."

"You mean a warm smoothie?"

"You drink smoothies?" Alec asked, more confused by the minute. On top of agitated. And flustered.

Simon merely rolled his eyes. It was actually a polite response. He could have said something sarcastic - Alec just made it so easy.

"I'm going to tell the others the food is here," Alec muttered, heading out of the room quickly. Too quickly.

Magnus winked at the vampire. "Welcome back."

"Is there something dead in one of those pizza boxes?" Simon asked, making a face. He just couldn't get past the smell.

"Yes, vampire. That's how it works. You kill the meat before you cook it. Typically."

"What a waste," Simon joked.

"But it tastes so good," Magnus purred, popping open one of the boxes and breathing in the aroma of Faery Christmas, his personal favorite.

"Yeah. Well, I think that's subjective."

"You're welcome to wait outside while we eat."

"I'll suck it up."

"Cute choice of words."

Simon sighed, rubbing his forehead like his head hurt.

"Irritated? This is just the beginning, darling."

"Thanks. I was hoping for a warm, cuddly welcome."

"Well, you've still got Clary."

"Oh?" Jace asked, walking into the room in a pair of jeans, tugging on the waistband like he'd just pulled them on. His hair was wet, and he smelled like soap, so Simon connected the dots.

"Hey, handsome," Jace winked, catching Simon looking.

"You're so full of yourself, my stomach revolts."

"Maybe it was a bad batch of blood. Like diseased or something," Jace replied.

Again, with the damn vampire jokes.

Simon tried to roll his eyes and let it slide. It didn't help that Magnus still looked amused.

"Try this one," Magnus was suggesting, directing Jace to the box to the left. The one, Simon quickly realized, was putting off the most offensive smell. It was clearly a challenge.

Jace looked up at the warlock, then down at the odd-looking pizza, brows raised. "And what is this?"

"Beached Mermaid."

"Literally?"

"Just unusual seafood on a pizza. No actual mermaids were harmed in the making."

"Well, in that case…" Jace broke off two pieces and slid them onto his plate, tossing the warlock a smirk.

"You can't be serious," Simon replied, feeling moderately sick just imagining someone consume something that smelled _that_ bad. Even if that person was Jace. It was still disgusting.

"Try just about anything once," Jace replied, leaning against the counter and lifting the first piece to his mouth. Simon had to look away as he went to bite.

"Are you OK?" Clary asked, sounding concerned. She was looking up at Simon, the beginnings of a smile turning into a frown as soon as he realized she was there. But before Simon could come up with a good reply, Clary was making a face. The 'what the hell is that smell' face, and looking over at the pizza.

"You've got to try this," Jace urged, holding out a half-eaten slice for her to take. Disgusting as it looked and smelled (and probably was), Simon felt a stab of jealousy.

"I'm not really hungry yet," Clary replied diplomatically, nose wrinkled. Then she looked back up at Simon and smiled, as if it'd just occurred to her that he'd stopped by. "You made it. How _are _you?"

"Half-awake, but here," Simon confirmed with a half-smile.

Clary's smile turned into a full on grin. Then she leaned in for the Clary Fray baby bear hug, squeezing him through his shirt (and undead skin, grrr, that. Cold, hard, not to the best suited for hugging). Clary felt like she was burning up. But her face was red and her hair was wet, and it clicked. She'd been showering too. Simon's nostrils flared, detecting the same waft of soap he'd gotten of Jace. A coincidence?

Simon gave her small shoulder a very light squeeze, then waited for her to let go. But she wasn't giving up - Clary gave his arm a tug, trying to bring him over to the table. Pointed at a seat, pulled her own out before he could grab it for her, and she sat down, looking up at him with a lingering smile.

Well, since she wasn't eating any of the offputting pizza - and he'd already eaten, and therefor could afford to get a little closer without any impulse control problems (he hoped), Simon took the seat she offered and akwardly scooted in closer to the table.

"Where's Alec?" Magnus inquired, waiting in vain for the shadowhunter to reappear. He'd set aside two plates for them, his filled with three slices of the veggie pizza, while Alec had been offered a slice of each (except for the Beached Mermaid - that was just for Jace. He would never do that to Alec).

"Probably trying to tear Isabelle away from her phone," Jace replied between mouthfuls, though he was distractedly chewing and watching Simon and Clary. Clary was leaning against the vampire's elbow, conversating with ease - inspite of Simon's apparent discomfort.

When Isabelle arrived, walking into the room and texting, Magnus frowned. "His pizza is going to get cold."

"You can always nuke it," Simon proposed.

"He eats cold pizza," Jace pointed out, finishing off the second slice.

"That's disgusting," Isabelle said, eying him with distaste.

"Here. Try this one," Magnus proposed, opening the lid to the meat pizza.

"How can you eat that?" Isabelle asked, holding out her plate while Magnus served. Jace went so far as to lick his fingers, glancing back at Magnus.

"Magnus wanted to see if I had the ba--stomach for it. Showed him."

"Bravo. Now you have appalling breath," Magnus retorted, looking down his nose at Jace, unimpressed.

Jace blew him a kiss, then opened the fridge, looking for a soda to wash it down with.

"Honestly, Alec," Magnus said, poking at the waiting plate. "Was is he doing?" He asked Isabelle, since she was the last to arrive.

"I don't know," she shrugged, setting down her phone and grabbing a slice. "He just knocked and told me food was here. And I came." A quick bite, then she popped open the lid and took one more slice, adding it to the plate. "And now I'm going," she decided, plate in one hand, phone in the other as she headed back out of the kitchen.

Simon turned to look over his shoulder, a little bothered that she hadn't even said hello.

Frowning, Magnus excused himself, leaving the room as well.

"Training room, twenty minutes," Jace said, speaking to Clary.

"We're not done for the day?"

"We're never _done_," Jace replied, lip twitching. "Try not to keep me waiting. Twenty minutes, vampire. How did you break in, anyway?"

"Simon," Clary corrected, resting her hand against Simon's forearm. "And I gave him a key." So to speak.

"I won't keep her too long," Simon promised, although it was just to get him moving along.

Jace made a point of rounding the table to get to the other side of Clary, kissing the top of her head and heading out.

"I've missed you," Clary said sincerely, as soon as the room was quiet again and they were alone. Now if only they could dispose of that gawd-awful pizza...

"I've missed you, too," Simon sincerely replied, thumb brushing over the top of her hand. He could feel the unfamiliar roughness there, on her usually soft skin. It was scar. A healing rune. And there, on the inside of her wrist, another rune. This one was fresh and it put off a strange warmth. Simon could feel the energy coming off the Mark. What was this one?

Clary caught him looking and flipped her wrist over, giving him a better look. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Simon answered, lip twitching.

But instead of smiling, Clary simply nodded, breathed in, and looked down at their hands, starting from the beginning.

* * *

_I apologize for the humor in this chapter. I wrote the first 500 words or so between Alec and Magnus, and then when everyone else came in, it just stayed light and sarcastic. But I promise the next chapter will be two things: serious and focus on Alec and Magnus again. I just needed to get back into the groove, and this story has been sorely neglected. I know. I've been a bad parent. I'm sorry!_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing. I will try to address all the reviewers individually in the next chapter. It's just really late now and I want this up. So here you go.  
_


	43. Bravery

Magnus knocked on the familiar door, stopping at Alec's room first in his search for the missing shadowhunter.

He'd only offered to bring dinner for Alec's benefit; Jace and Isabelle were once again sponging off him and his generosity towards Alec. Jace's "rotten fish market" pie had been a bonus, playing a practical joke on the blonde (in actuality, it proved more repulsive than amusing. Ah, well).

If Alec suddenly lost his appetite, or if he really didn't care for the pizza, he ought to come straight out and say it. Magnus would gladly fetch something else, maybe without actually going anywhere this time. Going out, waiting, ordering, it was all so tedious, when he could conjure the same at a snap.

"Alec?"

There was no answer. Waving his wrist, Magnus forced the door open. Normally this would be a serious invasion of Alec's privacy, but Magnus cared more about finding him at the moment that being chewed out over barging in. He_ had_ knocked.

The bedroom was empty. Immaculate. The bed was made, Alec's boots were near the door, as if he anticipated needing them at a moment's notice. The rest of his things were put up, giving the small room its spartan appearance. It looked like he didn't have anything personal, or anything to do here when he wasn't sleeping or dressing. That was likely the case. Magnus resisted a shudder, finding a new reason why Alec needed to visit him every night. He needed to understand that not everyone lived like a monk. And to see color on a daily basis. And see, neither of these reasons were purely selfish. Magnus was fairly proud of his reasoning.

That's not to say there were at least twenty other reasons why he wanted Alec to come over, or why Alec should. But these motivations were a little more obvious. And selfish.

"What are you doing?"

Magnus lifted his head and turned around, smiling in relief. "Looking for you."

"I thought you left," Alec replied, a soda in hand.

"Why would I do that? I came to feed you."

"Thank you."

"Didn't like the pizza?" Magnus inquired.

"I had two breadsticks."

"Two of the plain old breadsticks?"

Alec nodded, tongue dipping into the corner of his mouth, touching something. Garlic? Dipping sauce? "What'd you eat?"

"Nothing. I was waiting on you," Magnus replied.

"Sorry," Alec replied, glancing down at the floor. Color suddenly flooded his face.

"What?"

"Let's go eat."

"I can bring my plate here," Magnus answered. "Now, what was the delay? What were you doing?"

Alec looked embarrassed and slightly angry at the same time, pale eyes finally looking back up at the warlock. "Cleaning the bathroom."

"That couldn't wait?" Magnus asked, aghast. What brought on this impulse to clean in the middle of dinner?

"No. There was water everywhere," Alec explained, frowning.

"From Jace and Clary?"

Alec's shoulders were high, defensive. But he nodded stiffly.

"I assume that they were showering together." They both had wet hair, and Clary's arrival not two minutes from Jace walking in just seemed...intentional, like it was her idea not to walk in at exactly the same time and look suspicious. It sounded like just the sort of thing that might embarrass Clary and Jace would find ridiculous - which would explain why he was the first one in, and she the shy second.

Again, a stiff nod.

"Well. Great for them. I'm a little nauseous now, but..." A graceful shrug. "To each his own."

Alec offered him a weak smile, then started tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. Did it bother him that Jace and Clary might be canoodling in the shower? Magnus was pretty sure Maryse would have a shit fit if she knew - and damn, they moved _fast_. Had it even been a week since they came to the welcome realization that they weren't, in fact, siblings fighting a forbidden love? Since Clary wished him back from the dead?

Maybe that was the reason. Near-death experiences (or full on death, and being brought back) have been known to drastically change a person. Or push them to make rash decisions, savor life the second time around.

But they were also young, and maybe it'd been a really hot work out and Jace had proposed cooling off, and one thing led to another -- or maybe they didn't actually shower together at all and Alec was just jumping to conclusions. And overreacting for nothing. Clary didn't really put up that "I'm woman now" vibe, so maybe her innocence was still intact, her virtue untarnished.

On the other hand, with Jace, how long was that going to be the case?

Of course, Magnus didn't really care about the details of their relationship anymore than the cover of a tabloid, in an "oh, isn't that weird" sense. And "damn, her lips are huge. Did she get work done?"

Alec, on the other hand - did it bother him to think of Jace being intimate with someone else? Or was it jealousy? The fact that they hit that milestone first? Because if that was the case, Magnus would gladly--

"They broke the shower rod."

"What?"

"The bar that holds the curtain up. It broke off and they didn't say anything about it."

"Well, that's an easy fix. Maybe Jace didn't see the point."

"I guess."

"Alec?"

"What?"

"Can we just enjoy the meal I brought? Let's go back and sit down and--"

"I'm not hungry."

"You were fifteen minutes ago."

Alec shrugged.

"OK, here's what I'm going to do. I'll bring the food to you. Sit down."

Alec glanced toward the bed, then frowned. "I don't eat in here."

"Well, that's just going to have to change. Be bold, shadowhunter."

Alec grimaced and looked down at the floor again, but he moved over to the bed, sinking down on the edge of the mattress, hunched over. He looked so glum. Magnus put Mission: Get Alec to Eat on pause for a moment and followed him over to the bed. Mission: What's Really Bothering Alec was now in effect.

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to sit in my lap?"

Alec looked at him in surprise, lips gone slack. Magnus chuckled, taking a seat on the unbelievably narrow bed beside Alec. "You know. It might make it easier."

"How would that be easier?" Alec asked, voice soft and hesitant. He was looking at the opposite wall.

"Well. I wouldnt mind."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," Alec snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't make me take you over my knee," Magnus warned.

Alec glanced back at him, brows raised.

"Never mind."

"I heard them."

"Beg pardon?"

Alec continued to look up at him, eyes imploring him to listen and understand - and not ask questions. But Magnus wasn't a mind-reader. So the conversation still required some clarification.

"Inside the bathroom."

"Ohh."

Alec shifted, facing away from him and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Magnus reached over to place his palm against Alec's lower back, where the skin peeked out beneath his lifted shirt. Alec shivered.

"Why do you care what they do?" Magnus asked when Alec didn't continue, when he didn't explain what he'd heard or why it bothered him so much.

"I don't. Not really."

"So this isn't you sulking because you happened to walk down the hall why they were enjoying--"

"I'm not sulking."

"I realize you're more subdued, introverted type, but I'm pretty sure this," Magnus gestured to Alec's defeated body language, "isn't Alec thrilled or happy."

"I envy her."

Magnus sucked in a breath.

It was one thing to tease Alec about still being jealous, about hanging onto Jace long after it was fashionable to have a boyhood crush.

It was another thing to hear his boyfriend admit he envied the girl he was currently in love with, and presumably macking with in the shower.

Magnus didn't have a clever come-back in the ready. He sat beside Alec in silence, eyes narrowed.

Alec shifted after a minute, looking at his face, scrutinizing his reaction. When Magnus felt a gentle hand brush his knee, he couldn't help retracting his leg, drawing it in and away. Childish, stubborn reflex, but Alec had just admitted he essentially wanted to share a shower with Jace. Magnus felt nauseous. And incensed.

"Magnus."

Magnus got up, walking several paces away from the bed, lifting his hand to cup the back of his neck (since he couldn't touch the hair).

"Magnus?"

"I thought we were past this."

"What?"

"This old flame drama. I don't even know what it is anymore, what Jace could possibly have that I don't. He perpetually smells like leather shoes and lighter fluid, and I'm fairly sure he's mentally damaged."

"Magnus--"

The warlock turned around, eyes flashing angrily. "He doesn't even own a decent pair of shoes. He has the worst taste in pizza" (even if that was a setup) "and I'm willing to bet his sizable ego is just a cover to make up his unimpressive co--"

"Magnus! Will you stop for a second?" Alec demanded, his pale eyes angry as well. He had moved to the edge of the bed, fisting the comforter in his frustration, unitentionally unmaking the bed.

"Tell me what it is," Magnus insisted. "Because I'm fairly sure I excel in almost every column."

"He has longer hair," Alec replied, trying to diffuse Magnus's temper with humor.

"I had longer legs."

"He has more muscle tone."

"I've got a darker tan."

"Well, you're Asian. You don't actually tan."

"He could pass for an albino in some countries," Magnus sniffed.

Alec couldn't help smiling, shaking his head. Jace was not that pale.

"I'm not jealous of Clary," Alec finally clarified. Magnus frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Come again?"

"I don't want to be in her place. That's not why I envy her."

Magnus merely stared at him, mouth tight.

"I'm jealous of both of them, really. But mostly Clary because...I know Jace isn't afraid of anything. Not really. Clary's more like a normal person."

"Is that meant to be flattering or an insult?"

"I wish I could find the same courage," Alec said, absently playing with the comforter now.

"Would you like another rune?" Magnus offered. Alec glanced up, sure he was mocking him. But Magnus appeared to be serious.

"No."

"What can I do for you, then?"

"Lend me some of yours?"

"My what, darling?"

"Courage."

Magnus paused for several seconds, then his mouth curved. Slowly he returned to the bed, sitting down behind Alec and winding his long arms around the shadowhunter, hands meeting across his stomach. "I've had centuries to refine that."

"Clary doesn't have that excuse."

"Clary had a lot less to lose from being infatuated with a boy. Granted, there was that whole brother-sister stigma, but that's perfectly acceptable in rural areas."

Alec nudged him with his shoulder. _Be serious._

"She's barely five feet," Alec pointed out.

"She packs a lot of attitude in that small frame."

"She lived most of her life as a mundane."

"And maybe that was to her benefit. It was harder for you. Did you ever have the birds and the bees talk with your parents?"

"The what?"

"THE talk. The awkward conversation about sex?"

"Angel forbid. My father gave me instruction on how to use a crossbow when I came of age."

"And the only conversation you had about protection was in reference to wearing leather to cut down on the mess?"

Alec was blushing hard - Magnus could feel the heat coming off of his face, even with his back turned. "Pretty much."

"Well, you understand the mechanics, right?"

"Magnus."

"Of course, it's different for a man and a woman. But if you suddenly find yourself interested in how the other camp lives, then I'll get out an overhead projector and laser pointer, and we can talk about the age-old romance between the scone and the doughnut."

Alec brought his palm to his face, shaking his head in mortification. "Magnus. Please."

"Not as appetizing as it sounds, I know. I prefer scones. Ow!"

Alec had reached back and pinched his knee. Magnus laughed in surprise, and at the very red face that turned to glare at him.

"OK. I'll stop. But can I say one more thing, first?"

Alec seemed to debate, then cautiously nodded.

"Firstly, that I love you. Because I really do. Secondly, I would never be jealous of Clary. Not only is she short, she's irrational and moody, and very needy - come to think of it, she's a typical female." Brief grin and a wink.

"But here's the best part. She has _Jace_. Kudos, if she makes it to third base before you do, but what does that really mean, when she's making out with _him_? I mean, the way his breath smells right now, she must really love him if she'd even consider kissing--umph."

Alec cut him off with a kiss.


	44. Besiege

_Lend me some of yours_? Alec had asked Magnus, wishing he had even a sixth of the warlock's confidence and courage, at least when it came to being intimate with another person.

Alec knew part of that was experience; part of it was self-esteem. Whatever the right mixture was, Magnus never seemed to be awkward or uncertain. He wasn't a stranger in his own body, by any means. He probably wouldn't even understand if Alec tried to describe it properly.

Alec knew that curiosity and desire would only get him so far, if he let fear and uncertainty and reserve stand in the way. And he was too reserved, even more so when they were here at the Institute. He was out of his element at Magnus's place, and that was actually a good thing. He was out of his gear, away from his family, and overwhelmed by everything _Magnus_.

It was harder to be serious in a bright yellow bed, in a room with rainbow curtains and beside a man that _glittered_ from head to toe.

The same glittering, confident, incredibly sweet-smelling warlock was nuzzling his bare shoulder, kissing his way down Alec's arm, sucking at the permanent Mark there. Alec hissed at the sensation.

"Do you like that?" Magnus purred.

Alec reached out and grabbed a handful of the soft, spiky hair, tugging on the roots. Yes, he did. Alec didn't have words to describe how strong it was, the feeling of Magnus's mouth - and the way his skin burned beneath it. The heat was at the surface, and the tingling of his skin radiated all the way down his arm and extended into his fingertips. Alec shivered, and gave Magnus's hair another pull.

It was Magnus's turn to hiss. But when Alec let go of his hair, Magnus continued kissing down Alec's arm, sucking at the inside of his elbow, nibbling at the overly soft skin with his teeth.

"Did you hear that?" Alec asked after a minute, sitting up.

Magnus glanced up at the shadowhunter, glitter-encrusted brows raised.

"What?"

"That pounding."

"Your heartbeat?" Magnus snickered, thumb brushing Alec's hip as he gripped the boy's side.

"No, I thought…" Alec listened for a minute, trying to make out the sound again. It had been like someone knocking at the door. Or so he thought.

Ultimately, Alec shook his head, deciding it was just his imagination, his active mind unwilling to relax and let his body take over. "Never mind."

Unphased, Magnus lowered his head, picking up where he left off.

Alec closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the pillow, biting his lip to keep from making any noise. But when he felt the flicker of the warlock's tongue, he gasped and gripped the sheets, his body arching like a bow.

- - - -

"So there's a crazy ass warlock on the prowl."

"Basically," Clary replied, with a solemn nod. Absently, she rubbed the Mark on her wrist.

"And he's already attacked Maryse and Isabelle. And he told Magnus he's coming for all of you."

"Pretty much, which is why we all agreed to be Marked. Everyone except for Jace. And their parents. They're still not back."

"Where do they go, anyway? They're never here."

Clary shrugged. "Clave business."

"You don't think they're secretly on a private jet somewhere sipping cocktails?"

"Does that seem like something the Lightwoods would do?" Clary challenged, brows raised.

"Umm...visiting the Vatican? Touring old cemeteries?"

"I bet they have their own shadowhunter base there."

"I'll bet. I bet they're really hardcore, too."

"Even more hardcore than Idris?"

"Oh, yeah. Rome is serious business."

"How would you know?"

"OK, I am Jewish, but I get that Rome is to Christianity what Jerusalem is to the Jews. It's like the religious capital of the world."

"I'd like to see it one day."

"I wish I could take you," Simon said wistfully, with a half-smile.

Clary reached over and placed her hand on top of his larger, cooler hand. Something shifted in Simon's eyes and he leaned back, moving away.

Then there was a very loud boom. Simon sprang up very fast, upending the chair. Clary gasped, scooting back in hers.

"What was that?"

Boom, boom, boom.

"Someone's at the door," Simon answered, pausing to listen.

"Why don't they ring the doorbell?" Clary asked.

Simon held up a hand for silence, still trying to concentrate.

"Umm...Clary."

"What?" she whispered, heartbeat hammering in her ears.

"I don't think demons ring doorbells."

"Demons? Here?" she asked in astonishment, clutching his arm.

"Yeah," he answered, grimacing. "And I think there are a lot of them."

- - - -

"Somehow I don't think this is the safest place to talk strategy," Magnus pointed out, leaning into the arm of the couch with his arms crossed over his bare chest. Alec sat rigidly beside him, wearing a tattered old t-shirt. It was inside-out, as it happened, the tag poking out the back of his neck, like he'd gotten dressed quickly and in the dark - whereas Magnus hadn't bothered.

"If they break down the door, we won't have to chase them around the Institute. That's just stupid," Jace replied, unloading a heavy armful of weapons onto the table. He gestured for the other shadowhunters to take their pick, after he claimed three seraph blades for himself.

"Can they get through the door?" Clary asked, legs curled up beneath her. She looked like she was trying to sink into the couch cushions and disappear.

"Or up the elevator?" Simon asked, standing behind her. It looked like he wanted to rest his hands on her shoulders, maybe offer some cool comfort, but he didn't. Instead, he gripped the back of the couch, looking tense.

"They could shatter the windows, batter down the doors, or try to penetrate the roof. Somehow I can't imagine demons bothering with locks."

"How did they get past the seal on the door? Isn't this place protected?"

"It's hallowed ground," Alec replied, staring off into space looking troubled and confused. "They shouldn't even be here."

"So what's changed?" Isabelle demanded, her gold whip wrapped around her wrist in readiness, even though she was wearing an ill-fitted pair of pajamas, not exactly dressed for battle. "Why now?"

There was a drawn out silence, that is except for the background noise. The eerie grumbling, the sound of scratching and banging and hissing. Clary hugged herself tighter, Simon was listening and frowning. Jace had his stele out. Clary was staring at it and biting her lip.

"I think...I might have done something."

All heads swiveled in her direction. Alec leaned across the couch, finally snapping out of his daze. "You think or you know?"

"I'm...pretty sure."

"What did you do?" he asked, glaring.

"Alec," Jace warned, applying a Mark to his own forearm. The burning smell made Simon wince and look away.

"I used a rune on the door earlier."

"What kind of rune?" Magnus inquired, running a hand back through his hair.

"An unlocking rune," Clary hastily replied. Alec frowned. Isabelle shook her head, clearly disappointed in Clary. They were getting on so well in their training.

"Clary deconsecrated the Institute." Magnus decided, eying Clary with interest, perhaps admiring her skill. She looked shocked by the accusation, whereas he smiled slightly. "Way to go. I knew I felt more at home when I walked in."

"How did you manage that?" Alec asked, brows drawn.

"I used my stele. And I wasn't trying...to _deconsecrate_ anything. I don't even know what that is."

"You took the holy out of holy ground," Magnus succintly explained.

"Wait," Isabelle said, running a hand back through her loose hair. She looked oddly…unkempt. "You used the Mark of an angel to unmake hallowed ground? In effect to make the Institute unholy and therefor trespassable by demons? Am I the only one who sees the paradox here?"

"With good, there is evil," Magnus rattled off, rolling his eyes.

"We can discuss this LATER," Alec stressed, as a loud boom suddenly shook them from their theological discussion. The table before them rattled, including the assortment of weapons Jace hadn't already loaded into his belt. Alec reached for a crossbow and a seraph blade, done with sitting around waiting for this to happen. Magnus was right. This really wasn't time to sit around and chat.

"How do we undo this?" Clary asked behind her fist, looking like she was trying very hard not to scream.

"You don't have the answer?" Simon asked, looking oddly panicked – considering he was probably the physically strongest one in the room.

"I'm not a priest!" Clary said. Didn't it take a priest to sanctify a place? To bless it?

"Alec's a virgin," Jace interjected, blowing on the skin of his bicep. The new Mark was complete, the skin around it flushed. "You can make a blessing or something, right?"

"Shut up, Jace!" Alec snarled.

"So is Simon," Magnus deduced. "Why don't we spill his blood all over the foyer and say a prayer?"

"Somehow I don't think my blood will be any help in this particular situation!" Simon snapped.

"Besides, it's kind of cliché at this point, isn't it? You're always the hapless victim. Although," Jace considered, tapping his chin with an inappropriate sense of calm, his other hand still holding his stele, "if Clary hadn't been so eager to get your over here for a chat, there would be no problem."

"What were you thinking?" Alec demanded, scowling in her direction.

"I thought it would open up the door, so I wouldn't have to let him in. I wasn't thinking about the Institute being holy ground - and all that being an obstacle."

"Clearly you were, because that wasn't a simple unlocking rune you used," Magnus pointed out.

"Yes, it was! I mean, I meant for it to be," Clary replied, face flushed.

"Next time go meet him at Starbucks," Jace said, before speaking to his seraph blades, naming them each in turn.

"I can't drink coffee," Simon said, sounding disappointed.

"And you can't eat pizza," Magnus reminded. "It doesn't matter where you meet. Unless it's at the butchers, it's no difference to you."

"I'm sorry!" Clary said, covering her ears. The banging had gotten louder, and she was pretty sure she heard _moaning_ overhead. It was eerie and intimidating, and the hostility in this room among the other shadowhunters wasn't helping.

Alec was the worst. He was still stuck on the fact no warning bells had gone off before now. No one had thought anything was amiss, and therefor had done nothing to prevent this from happening. And so, as the mature voice of reason, he had to add: "It didn't occur to any of you to wonder 'what is a vampire doing in the Institute?' "

"I was hungry," Jace offered by way of an excuse.

"I didn't see him," Isabelle replied, ignoring Simon's look of hurt.

"I didn't particularly care," Magnus answered.

"Then don't blame me for being thoughtless!" Clary said, her voice trembling.

Simon reached out to touch her arm, meaning to comfort her. Clary glanced up, expression crumbling.

"I'm sorry, Simon - I really wasn't thinking when I asked you over."

"I'm sorry I've made it so difficult." Who knew hanging out would bring an entire hoard of demons on them? Was it too much to ask for one night of peace, after everything that had happened this summer?

Apparently it was.

"OK, this isn't helping," Magnus decided, pushing off the couch. "If we can't rely on sacred wards, then we'll have to turn to magical protection."

"What did you have in mind?" Alec asked, rising to join him.

"Hush, I'm thinking."

"Think faster," Jace ordered. He'd returned his stele to his belt and he had two seraph blades in his hands, head tilted back, eyes watching some invisible movement in the ceiling.

"Shut up," Magnus reiterated. "Especially you."

"Can I do anything?" Simon offered, walking around the couch.

"Get out," Jace growled, glancing sharply up at the vampire.

"What?" Simon asked in shock. "You can't be serious? It's hell in a hand basket out there."

"Sounds like a party," Jace drawled, passing his thumb feather-lightly across the edge of the blade. "Go mingle."

"What Jace is trying to say," Magnus intervened, "is that you can't be here once the wards are back up. And they will be soon if I can concentrate. So you need to leave."

"But what if you can't make it work in time? Then you'll need my help," Simon insisted, glancing from Magnus to a stricken Clary, then back over at Jace.

"It's your risk," Jace muttered distractedly, then broke off in a run, heading down the hall.

"Jace!" Alec and Clary called after him.

Alec headed after him, hearing the same thing Jace had moments before - glass shattering. Clary moved as if to follow, and Simon reached out and took her arm. "Stay with me."

The elevator groaned and rattled. Someone was heading up!

"I thought they couldn't use the elevator!" Simon exclaimed, glancing to the fellow Downworlder for answers.

But Magnus was ignoring him, eyes closed, muttering something under his breath.

Isabelle was up and off the couch in an instant, running towards the entryway.

"Holy shit," Simon cursed. Clary looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's OK. I wouldn't be worried about your mouth at a time like this."

"I guess unholy shit would have been more appropriate?"

Clary didn't reply, except to smack his arm and then tentatively reach for one of the seraph blades Jace had left behind.

* * *

_Dedicated to all you clever reviewers that had to keep pointing out "WTF is Simon doing at the Institute? Shouldn't he be burning in agony, not chatting it up with Clary in the kitchen?"_

_Yes, you are so right. I had thought of an alternate way of explaining it, but it didn't go very far and I wasn't getting anything good - and why force it when you can have an ACTION scene? What! Total win._

magic_noctum: Probably get there faster in Magic Moment than in this story. I still have a T-rating, you know? ;)

Katara-alchemist: And I love you! I really do. You're a very steady friend. I don't look forward to the day when I don't see your name, shortly after I post a new chapter.

Taiyoukai89: Thank you! Obviously I love the pairing too.

Awesomesauce123: Heart you right back.

Dolly's Day: Try THRICE in one day, girl! Whattup!

Isabel Chase: Thank you, thank you. And I PROMISE there will be Alec peril in the future! I can't say when, but it will happen again. It just wouldn't be realistic without him getting hurt or in a bind eventually.

sophia666: Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed. And what do you think now?

summerchic40: Thank you for backdating your review! I wasn't sure what I thought of that chapter, and I'm glad you liked it.

Catharine: Yes, they are hot. I totes agree.

Chemical-euphoria: That's right. Take pleasure in the simple things. Maybe I'll write an Alec-kidnapped-fantasy for you one day (although I believe there are several out there already that might tickle your fancy)

Hikoru Aniki: Thank you!

Monkeys.4eva: No, just waiting for the right moment to spring him!

AnimeLover237: Thank you. M/A convos are my favorite too!

magical-archer: Oh, yes. It's always hot with Magnus as the hero!

OmgAdot: I'll miss you! I'm leaving you several chaps to catch up on when you get back.

Sillysac: Why does your penmae seem so dirty? And yes, I know. Silly me.

icaughtkira: Smexy. Fun word. And yes, I've been reading your story as well. We should totally chat sometime. We're like soul sisters, of a sort. You can be the yin to my yang. Unless you want to be the yang. And yeah, I really am not a Clary-fan, case you noticed.


	45. Blast

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them.

**A/N: **I am so sorry it's been so long since I've updated this fic. It's actually the hardest one to write, because (I think) barring the Magnus/Alec fluff, it's the most like the books; that is, I tried to write it in a similiar style, as far as the story goes - which means I have to get off my lazy bum and actually try at a plot and work to make it seem half-way believable (sob, I know I fail a lot. This type of story is really not forte. I should stick to the fluff). But I can't just abandon my fic-child now, just because it's difficult.

Just wanted you to know I haven't forgotten or given it up. It's just been shoved to the side while I thought about it.

* * *

**Chapter 45: Blast  
**

The elevator rattled to the top. Isabelle was waiting for it, feet planted in a grounded position, her whip unwound, wrist ready to snap back.

She was hoping one of two things: either that it was empty, or maybe on some far-fetched chance, it was someone they knew, another shadowhunter seeking sanctuary at the Institute. But the odds of that were slim, not with scores of demons surrounding the place. It would have been easier to run than ride up into the belly of the beast.

The elevator clanged to a stop. As the door rolled back, Isabelle gasped, taking an unintentional step back. The frothing demon advanced on her - but it wasn't possible. How did it man the elevator with its claws for fingers? How did it even have the mentality to do anything but attack it in frustration?

As the sicking smell of her adversary overwhelmed her, Isabelle drew her whip back.

"Go back to hell, you ugly bastard!" she spit at the unnamed demon, before brandishing the golden extension of her arm, whipping it around the demon's bulging throat. She twisted her hand and pulled back, hoping to behead it.

She cried out at the sickening spray of demon blood, making a hideous mess of the job before the thing decided to disappate in a pile of ash.

"UGH! I hate my job," she cried out, flicking her hand. But there was sticky, hot fluid all over her. And this was only the beginning.

"Isabelle? Are you all right?" Simon asked, streaking onto the scene.

"If you're trying to save the day, you're about thirty seconds too late," Isabelle pointed out, revolted by the state of her own body. Simon eyed her speculatively, not coming any closer.

"But you killed it?"

"Yes, vampire, it's dead. That's what we do."

"Hey. I have a name."

"You've also got fangs and super strength. So why don't you make use of them?" she said, flicking him an annoyed glance before rushing at the empty elevator.

"Isabelle!"

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the inferno," she said, drawing the gate closed.

But a strong, white hand shot out, stopping her.

"Simon," she growled. "I have to go before they all find a way up."

"Don't be an idiot. I'm coming with you."

"You can't leave Clary alone."

"Magnus is still with her," he pointed out, though she caught the vampire glancing back out towards the sitting room, just checking up on her.

"Fine. But you better be ready for whatever we walk into."

"I'm ready," Simon murmured, snatching up her left hand. Isabelle looked up at him in surprise. It wasn't just the hand-holding. Her hands were covered in demon waste.

But Simon didn't seem to care. To emphasize the point, he gave her hand a cool, gentle squeeze.

"Suit yourself," Isabelle retorted, dragging the door closed and sending the elevator down.

- * -

"Jace! Behind you!" Alec cried. He had just slashed a demon across the chest, glancing reflexively over his shoulder at the groaning sound of another approaching.

Jace muttered his thanks, his seraph blade shining beneath the light of the hall before he ran the demon through, spraying his face in ash. It clung to his loose hair, and he shook it off in irritation.

For the moment the hall was clear, but they both knew it wouldn't be long before there were more, crashing through the windows or digging their way inside from the ceiling. Good thing no one had bothered to replace the roof in recent years, or it would have all gone to waste.

Alec was breathing heavily, swiping his forearm across his face. His shirt was streaked in ichor and gray flecks of ash. His hands and wrists were sticky with the black fluid, though he wasn't concerned, holding steadfast to both blades.

"I don't think it's Clary's fault," Jace said, lips pursed.

"This really isn't the time to try to talk about your girlfr--"

"I'm serious," Jace replied, continuing down the hallway and speaking offhandedly to Alec. "I don't think she's capable of undoing holy ground."

"Why not? She's done a helluva lot worse without even trying."

Jace shot him a glare, but didn't respond.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is that, she obviously didn't mean for any of this to happen. I believe that," Alec tactfully added, following a few steps behind him. "But it still seems like a likely explanation. She said as much herself--"

"She's taking the blame out of guilt. But that doesn't mean this is her fault. What if it wasn't accomplished by her unlocking rune?"

"Are you saying someone else is involved?"

"Get with it, Alec. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Alec exhaled with care, eyes glancing up anxiously at the sound of creaking overhead. "That does seem awfully coincidental."

"Maybe. But let's not forget we're also at war with a nasty warlock, who's epically pissed off with all of us. And your boyfriend thought it'd be an excellent idea if we all stayed on house arrest until this blows over. Like that's going to accomplish anything. How else do you figure he's going to make a move, except to attack us here?"

"So you're saying this is Wyrick's fault?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Let's forget the part about hallowed ground. That's just half of the problem. Someone also had to summon a shitload of demons and call all of them here. Or someone had to send out the memo that we were unprotected, inviting them over for the party."

"And it doesn't matter that your theory also exonerates Clary completely."

"Shut up, Alec. This isn't about her--"

"Jace," Alec interrupted, eyes gone wide.

"What is your problem? Why aren't you even willing to consider the possibility that she might not have fucked up here? That maybe this is something totally unrelated to Clary being the novice, the weak link--"

"Jace!"

"And I know that's how you all think of her. The screw up; the slowest one. So of course, when the Institute goes to hell, Clary is the natural scapegoat. Blame the entire thing on her, because hey, it's easy and she's gullible."

"JACE! HEADS UP!" Alec screamed at him, nodding his head forcefully as a shaft of moonlight broke through the ceiling, the roof caving in a few feet ahead of them, a blast of debris hitting the floor. There was a cloud of smoke in the aftermath, making them cough and step back.

Then the nauseating smell of demons filled the air. They were inside the building.


	46. Bombardment

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them.

**A/N: **I wrote this listening to the _Angels and Demons_ soundtrack. I thought it would get me in the mood. Did it help at all?

* * *

**Chapter 46: Bombardment  
**

Alec's heartbeat was thudding in his ears. It was the only thing he could hear. The sounds of the demons, the roof continuing to come apart in broken shingles and crumbling plaster crashing through the ever-widening hole - all that might as well be on mute. He couldn't even distinguish what Jace was screaming at him.

All he could follow was the sound of his own heartbeat, racing ahead, getting ready for battle. His skin prickled with heat - the only time he was truly warm, save for the comfortable nights curled up in bed with the feverish warlock. Magnus's body heat was incredible - but at the moment, so was Alec's. Feeling the sweat tickling the sides of his face, Alec lifted his blades and ran at the growing hoard. He might have growled; he might have screamed out in rage and defiance. But he couldn't hear that either.

There was nothing but the constant thrumming of his pounding heart, reminding him that he was still alive, and that his body wasn't going to give up on him without a fight.

- - -

"Here's the plan," Isabelle began, looking up at him as the elevator descended, crawling closer and closer to the awaiting chaos on the ground floor.

"You have a plan?" Simon asked, brows shooting up.

"No, I thought we'd just run out screaming and call it a day."

"That could work."

"Listen, vampire," Isabelle cut in, rolling her eyes. She didn't even dignify that with a response. "I'm going to try to drive them back. You take out as many as you can, as fast as you can. I'll try to keep them distracted, and hope to kill as many as I can in the process."

Simon shook his head, nostrils flaring. "As far as last-minute plans go, that's a really shoddy one. Plus, it's suicidal."

"We're two against who knows how many. There is no perfect plan."

"Well, then let's come up with one quick that doesn't involve you offering yourself up as a sacrifice the second you lose your whip."

"No one's going to take Lucinda," Isabelle replied, offended by the suggestion. She glared at him, offhandedly touching the gold whip wrapped around her wrist.

"It has a name?"

"Why not? We name seraph blades."

"Ummm. Yeah, but, isn't that--"

"My last one was Cleopatra. She was my favorite." Isabelle broke off abruptly, taking a step back as the elevator came to a jarring stop. Simon reached out to steady her, but there was no need. She hadn't lost her balance. She was, however, staring blankly out at the entry in confusion.

It was quiet. Dead quiet. Just the distant sounds of traffic, and the natural hum of the air condition unit.

Isabelle frowned, slowly opening the gate.

"But I could have sworn--"

Isabelle cut him off with a forceful 'HUSH!'

_What an idiot. _Obviously when a scene is this quiet, it's suspicious, especially when they were both so sure that they were walking into a hellish ambush. The fact that there wasn't a demon in sight - though the place reeked of the recent presence, meant that they were either laying in wait or they'd found another way in, having given up on operating the elevator.

But what about the first one? What was the explanation on how he...she...it made it all the up, without being able to man the device?

Isabelle unwound her whip, moving forward with caution, her head jerking in each direction, listening out. She glanced towards the shadows, braced for a surprise attack.

"Can I speak now?" Simon asked, making her jump. He was right behind her, all but breathing down her neck.

"What?" Isabelle hissed, trying to calm her erratic pulse. She wasn't going to admit how much that cool breath against her nape made her skin prickle - not necessarily unpleasantly.

"There's no one down here."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I just came to that realization."

But both of their heads jerked up in unison, hearing the commotion overhead. There was glass shattering. And someone was screaming. Isabelle rushed back towards the elevator.

Simon was quick on her heels.

"NO! You stay here."

"But there's no one--"

"Go outside and stand watch. Besides, once the protection is back up, you won't be able to stay here."

"But I can help--"

"You can't do anything if you're dead, vampire!" Isabelle screamed, reaching for the door. At the hurt expression on Simon's face, she blew out her breath in exasperation, then took one step forward, trying to explain in a gentler tone. "I don't know what will happen if you're still inside once the wards go up." Then after a pause, she added: "You shouldn't have been able to come here at all. I'm sorry, but that's the bitter truth. You can't stay here."

Simon seemed to mull this over. His eyes looked so sad, so lost, so young. Isabelle wondered what it would be like to always look that young, even when he was centuries old, like Magnus.

It was kind of sad, that the price of immortality and eternal youth meant that he couldn't be with his friends, not even fight by their side on hollowed ground. Not that he didn't seem willing enough to sacrifice himself in order to protect them. To protect Clary. But Isabelle was fairly sure no one would ask that of him, not even his best friend. It wasn't fair.

Simon wasn't born to fight their battles, even if he had died as a causality of their war.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle repeated, affording him one final glance before turning back to the elevator and curling her hand around the gate.

"Stay here," she added, shooting him a firm glance.

"I promise," Simon softly replied, with a mocking salute.

Isabelle shook her head. What a smart ass. She muttered the same under her breath.

She saw the flicker of Simon's pale smile as the elevator headed back up.

- - -

"MAGNUS!" Clary screeched, standing on top of one of the sofas to get a better look at what was happening down the hall. There was a blur of movement; an odd cloud of smoke that really looked more like early-morning fog, hazy and milky and foul-smelling.

Clary was also pretty sure she saw the orange glow of fire through the confusion.

But Magnus was ignoring her, still chanting to himself, his energy gathering in his hands, making them glow an iridescent blue. His fingers trembled. He looked like he was feeling the air for something.

Clary wondered if he could even hear her in his trance, if he was having some kind of crazy warlock outer-body experience. If it was anything like when she was poisoned by the lake in Idris, it was no wonder that he was sweating and rocking, and speaking in words that didn't make sense.

She curled her nails into the fabric of the couch nervously, not sure what to do.

Isabelle and Simon were gone. Alec and Jace were somewhere in the fight raging down the hall. And Magnus was on the other side of the rainbow.

What to do? It was one thing when they went out together, when Alec or Jace or Isabelle was there to scream out instructions like "Get behind me!" or "Get down!", but there were no other experienced shadowhunters available, not even a protective Downworlder to tell her to hide under the couch or draw a rune that might help.

It was a rune that had gotten them all into this mess to begin with. The guilt was definitely there, but her own fear and anxiety for the others was stronger. She could sit around and sulk later; right now, she needed to DO something! Something to help.

It made her realize just how few of them there were. Even when a hoard of demons was laying siege to the Institute, their sanctuary, there were only five shadowhunters available to fight. They were lucky Magnus had come over for dinner, lucky at least they had weapons and the knowledge of the place at their disposal.

There was an explosion behind her. Clary screamed, ducking down and plastering her hands to her ears.

"God!" she cried, wishing this was just a dream she could wake up from. Maybe any moment now Jace would shake her away, and speak to her in his calming voice, telling her it was just another nightmare.

"Get up."

Clary's head jerked up. It was Magnus talking to her. He had risen to his feet, his naked chest glimmering with glitter and a fine sheen of sweat. His hands were burning blue, and even his eyes looked inhumanly bright.

"They're coming," he announced.

"Did you fix it?" Clary asked, the sound of her own voice pathetic.

"I don't have time for games."

"What--"

"We'll settle the power struggle later. Right now, let's get rid of the mess," Magnus instructed. "Do you have a blade on you?"

"Yes."

"Give me your stele," he requested, holding one of his glowing hands out for it.

Clary warily reached into her pocket, and extended the instrument to him over the back of the couch, dropping it into his palm rather than touch what looked like blue flame. Magnus's lip twitched, but he made a grab of her hand before she could retract it. She gasped, but wasn't burned. The only thing she felt was an odd tingle; his hands were very warm.

The stinging kiss of the stele bit into the skin of her hand. Clary tried not to move, watching the unfamiliar pattern burn into her pale flesh, on the same hand as the protection rune.

"What is it?" she asked under her breath.

"It's for strength. I'm not going to do all the work."

Clary made a face, letting his finish, before muttering her thanks.

"You stay at my side."

"OK."

Clary shuddered, feeling the warmth spreading.

"What's it feel like?" Magnus asked.

"Like I'm at the starting line of a track meet," Clary shared after a second, her heart rate picking up. There was a similiar cramping in her stomach, too. Nerves.

"Good. Then we're ready."

Clary climbed down from the couch, looking up at him, waiting for instruction.

Magnus turned his head sharply to the right, hearing movement she couldn't place from the opposite hallway.

"On your mark. Get set."

And then Clary saw the blur of movement, eyes going wide. It looked like a brown wall was approaching, blocking out the light of the gas lamps as it came closer down the hallway. Her breathing picked up. Her hand almost reached for Magnus's. Instead, she clamped it into a fist, shaking at her side, the other hand curling around her blade.

"Go!"


	47. Blood

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them.

**A/N: **Sorry about another lapse in time. I was going to work on one of my other fics, but I decided to give this one a look first, and I took a note from my last chapter and put on the Angels and Demons soundtrack, and it made magic happen twice. Awesome. Obviously that's the secret to getting these updates out. Now if I only knew the right song to motivate myself with Magic Moment...**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 47: Blood  
**

Clary gasped at the spray of hot liquid as it slashed across her face. It burned the skin on contact, and she could hear the pathetic sound of her own whimper as the unbearable pain followed a moment later.

The seraph blade fell to the floor with a clatter, her wrist losing the will to keep it clenched in her hand. Automatically she lifted her hands in horror to her face, needing to feel the damage, to assess it with her palms, but Magnus stopped her, his hand warm and secure around her wrist.

"Don't," he warned.

Her wild eyes turned on him, wanting to ask and afraid to know the truth. How bad was it?

God, was she a poor excuse for a shadowhunter, worrying about her _face_ while the Institute was under siege by a hoard of demons?

Speaking of, the hall had been cleared out. Magnus had dispensed of the wounded demon she had tried to run through, but had only managed to piss off. It wasn't his blood that hit her face, but something...something it had spit at her!

"It spit at me," Clary thought out loud, dazed. Her hands were shaking. Magnus still had her wrist in his hand, and gave it a sharp, impatient tug now, pulling her back.

"Come on. We have to check on the others."

When Clary looked at him in panic, the warlock rolled his eyes, hold tightening around her wrist. "I'll fix your face later. There won't even be a mark. Now _come on_."

Clary jumped, some of the residual electricity in Magnus's hand sparking against hers.

"OW!" She protested, trying to jerk her arm free of his grip. When he didn't let go, she reached over with her left hand and slapped at his pushy arm.

The pressure fell away. Surprisingly, Magnus smirked down at her, pleased that she'd finally forgotten about her face.

Then he was rushing ahead, his long strides hard to keep up with - considering what she had to work with. Clary ran after him, their footfalls in counterpoint to one another, racing down the long hallway towards the others.

Clary started coughing as they reached what should have been the sitting room. She knew where she was when her knee bumped into the back of the couch, but she couldn't see a damned thing through the smoke. The overwhelming burning smell, coupled with the reek of demon, burned her throat and her nostrils. The heat of the fire made her wounded, exposed face throb and sting even more, making her eyes water. It was hard not to focus on it again, lifting her shaking hand reluctantly to the skin of her cheek, hovering an inch from it and wavering. She bit her lip and closed her eyes--

"CLARY!" Magnus called from ahead. Clary lifted her head distractedly, trying to make out the direction where his voice had come from.

"Magnus?"

There was a flash of blue through the cloud of gray, and Clary fought against a fit of searing coughs, slowly moving towards it.

As she approached, she heard the coughing of someone else. Jace was cursing under his breath.

"Jace!" she called out with relief, pushing against the smoke with her hands as if that would dispel it as she moved towards the coughing and the shadow of the tall warlock's bent form.

Jace came into focus, and Clary couldn't help throwing herself at his torso, arms clinging. He coughed against her chest, one hand brushing over her arm.

"Are you all right?" Jace asked. Clary nodded vaguely, pushing her cheek into his shoulder, wincing.

Jace noticed it. He pushed at her arm, and Clary drew away, letting him see the damage. If it was hideous, it didn't register in Jace's face. He calmly scrutinized the wounds, then his eyes lowered, looking beyond her side to the floor.

Wondering at the abrupt shift, Clary turned as well and gasped.

_Alec._

Clary felt like such a vain bitch for worrying about surface wounds on her face. Alec's face was barely recognizable, the pale white skin stained by his own blood. It was his throat, she realized. A ragged, open wound was torn across the base of his throat, the raw tear extending as far as his shoulder as if...as if he had been...

She was going to be sick. Weaving, Clary had to turn around, cupping a hand to her mouth.

"Is there poison?" Jace asked in a low voice, still so remarkably calm. But his fist was clenched, and Clary felt sure if there were any surviving demons in the hallway, Jace would have thrown himself at them bare-handed, lashing out with all of his carefully controlled emotion. Fighting seemed to be the only way Jace knew how to vent.

"No," Magnus replied, barely breathing the word. His hands were giving off a different kind of energy, attempting to heal Alec.

Clary could feel the shift in the air from his magic. It made the hair at the back of her neck and along her arms stand on edge, the pores prickling.

"There were too many," Jace muttered, as if he needed to explain why Alec had been wounded when Jace was only a mess of ash and flecks of blood. Clary's stomach rolled, wondering whose blood it was, Jace's or Alec's.

"They kept pouring in from the roof," Jace added when Magnus made no response. "And I couldn't see a damned thing. They just kept coming, and Alec was screaming at me to run, but I--"

"Quiet," Magnus said, his eyes flickering up at Jace with warning, before returning his attention to his progress with Alec.

"He's lost so much blood," Clary breathed, stepping away. There was a sticky pool of it at her feet. Horrified, she realized she had left bloody footprints where she had been standing.

"Take her to the Infirmary," Magnus instructed, clearly wanting them out of the way so he could work on Alec.

Shaken, Clary didn't resist when Jace's hand curled around her arm and started leading her away. She did, however, hear Isabelle's voice calling out, searching for them through the smoke.

Where was Simon? Was he all right? She hadn't seen him since the attack started.

"Alec!"

Clary heard the painful cry, realizing that Isabelle had found her brother.


	48. Bitch

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them.

**A/N: **Thank you for continuing to read and review this fic! Can you believe I've almost been at this for six months? This fic, that is. This story line, if you're looking back at Call Me, is even older. I hope it's not getting old. It may be the hardest one to write, but I think it's still the most rewarding. I want it to feel real, not just make people laugh, so I'm still trying. For you.

Happy reading.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 48: B*tch  
**

"Is he dead?"

Four heads turned in unison, skittish eyes and tense shoulders registering the sound of an unexpected voice from behind them.

Simon stood in the doorway of the Infirmary, taking in the sight of Alec's still white form on the bed. His face looked exceptionally pale - like, rivaling the starch white sheets kind of pale. Even his mouth was more white than pink. There were splashes of red on his face, the only hint of color. The drying blood.

The shadowhunter reeked of recently spilled blood; in fact, the vampire had followed the trail all the way down the hall, nostrils flaring and burning from the stench of the recent slaughter. The overwhelming smell of demon was everywhere too, a sickening mix of death and evil making him nauseous.

Standing in the doorway was probably a wise idea; coming any closer, not so much. There was too much blood in the room. It wasn't just Alec's, Simon realized. Jace was covered in the mess, though he didn't look wounded. Isabelle...she looked fine. Pissed, but not hurt. And Clary--

"Oh!" my God, he wanted to say, but the words formed an impassible lump in his throat. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," Clary replied in a distracted monotone, anxious eyes darting back to Alec on the narrow bed. What happened to her face? She looked almost burned...

"What are you doing up here?" Isabelle growled, stepping into place in front of him, blocking his view of Clary. All he could see was Isabelle's loose hair, her angry face, and the pulse throbbing in her neck. The muscle there jumped as she clenched her jaw.

"There was no point standing around down there, waiting like a dog," Simon defended.

"I said stay," Isabelle replied, jabbing him in the chest. Her nail felt like a sharp little blade, finding its mark. Not just poking.

"Again, not your dog," Simon retorted, brows drawn. "What's the point? The wards aren't back up. I'm still here. Demons could regroup any second, and you might need me."

"We need you safe," Isabelle muttered under her breath. Eyes wide, Simon stared at her. Embarrassed by what sounded like an oddly tender statement, Isabelle gave him a shove, then turned away, rounding to stand at the other side of the bed, taking Alec's limp hand in hers. They had the same fingers, long, graceful fingers, only the color had been leeched from his skin.

"Why is this taking so long?" she demanded. Magnus didn't respond. He was too focused on what he was doing, murmuring words Simon didn't recognize, even though his enhanced hearing allowed him to hear every word perfectly.

"He's going to be fine," Jace said, sitting down wearily in a chair.

"I know he will," Clary agreed, giving Jace's shoulder a squeeze. Why was she reassuring him? He didn't need reassurance. Magnus could use a shoulder squeeze. Or even Isabelle - though she probably wouldn't appreciate it.

"It's the blood," Simon softly replied.

"What?" Isabelle said, lifting her head to glare at him.

"The blood loss," the vampire clarified. "He's lost a lot. It's all over the hall."

"How do you--" Clary began, then swallowed the rest of the question, looking disturbed. "Never mind."

"What happened?" Simon asked, wondering how he lost so much blood, so quickly. There was no apparent wound now.

"Demon took a hearty bite out of his throat," Jace replied, sounding callous and unconcerned. But the irritability in his voice, that betrayed how much he cared. Jace didn't do worry like normal people.

"Oh," Simon managed, his own throat feeling really dry. Parched.

"Get out of here," Isabelle said.

"What?"

"It's all over your face, vampire. If you can't keep it under wraps, then go."

"I'm not going to--"

"If you take one step towards him, I'll snap your neck."

"Ouch, Isabelle," Simon replied, sounding hurt and disbelieving. "I'm not going to hurt him. I _do _have some self-control."

"Chill," Jace cut in, blood-dotted hand forced against his forehead, trying to rub out the ache above his eyes. "Not that a fight between the two of you wouldn't be epic, but let's take a rain check."

Isabelle didn't reply, but she gave Simon a look that clearly said: _Just you make a move, vampire. I dare you._

Simon exhaled with caution, not sure why she was riding him so hard. He wasn't going to attack Alec. Even if the rash impulse was there, the rational part of him was still fully functional. He wasn't going to jump a shadowhunter when his warlock boyfriend and shadowhunter siblings were right there, ready to pounce. And he would never do that to Alec, anyway. He wasn't as bad as a _demon_; he could never take a bite out of his friend's throat, not without being asked. And even then, it was hard.

It was less hard with Jace because, OK, he'd been wanting to sink his teeth into the guy's throat since they first met, since before Simon even had fangs. Plus, it was bite Jace or die. He chose to take the offering. But he wasn't going to hurt Alec while he was down, just because the room was saturated with the smell of his blood and the blood smelled really good. Definitely preferable to demon blood, which was everywhere. Gross.

Unconsciously, Simon licked his lips, trying not to think about the off-putting stench-o-demon. Isabelle shot him another look. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. He didn't even want to look at Alec, afraid that his sister would mistake his concern for hunger, and lash out with her whip. It wasn't around her wrist, but it was on the floor near her foot. Two seconds and Isabelle could make a grab for the weapon. He knew how fast she was with a whip. Hell, a slap would have been enough of a threat. She didn't hit like a girl. Maybe a shadowhunter girl. They didn't land a blow without making sure it did damage, and that it really hurt.

The fact that he was a vampire didn't matter in the least, kind of like the fact that she was a girl. It didn't change anything. She wasn't afraid of him; he was kind of afraid of her, though, especially when she was really angry.

But it wasn't really anger; Isabelle wasn't just being a bitch, either. She was freaking out over her brother, worried that he might not be OK, that he might not come out of this one alive. And after losing Max, Simon could definitely understand why she was acting so abrasive. She knew what it felt like to lose a loved one. She had lost one brother; she refused to lose another, and he felt sure if she could shove Magnus aside and make the magic work faster, or if there was anything she could do to help, she would be doing it. Instead, all she could do was hold Alec's lifeless hand, threaten Simon to keep his damned distance, and wait like the rest of them.

Simon's attention shifted suddenly from Isabelle, back to her brother, in spite of his resolve not to look. He couldn't help it. The blue energy was still rippling between Alec and Magnus, an eerie magical bubble that distorted the features of Alec's face every few seconds when it shifted. But what caught Simon's attention had nothing to do with Alec's face, which despite the illusion of the magical veil, hadn't actually moved. It was Alec's chest; it expanded with a shallow breath, his body visibly arching up away from the bed enough for Simon's eye to catch the movement. He also heard the sound of the air sucking in between Alec's pale, parted lips. No one else noticed so subtle a sound, but Simon did.

There was another shallow breath, another expansion of Alec's chest. Simon opened his mouth to point it out, that Alec was clearly breathing, when Isabelle shifted closer, squeezing Alec's still hand.

"Alec?" she called, touching his arm with her free hand.

"What is it?" Clary asked, leaning in as well. Even Jace sat up a little straighter in his chair, curious.

"He's breathing."

"Of course he's breathing," Magnus replied, though it was strange, with his eyes closed, his face still very focused on what he was doing. But his voice was low and reedy, sapped of its energy. "He's not dead."

"Thank God," Isabelle replied, her face softened with relief.

Simon would have echoed the words if he could, marvelling at the expression on Isabelle's face. He'd never seen it before. She looked...well, kind of beautiful.


	49. Bed

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them.

**A/N: **So, this update is coming a little faster than the last, right? I noticed in browsing some of my old favorites, that a number of awesome FF authors that were writing when I first began Call Me have faded away, gone on hiatus, moved onto different fandoms. That's so sad. I know the feeling of following a story you really like, and waiting forever in the hope that it will be updated. It sucks, especially when you start to figure out that it's not going to be updated, that they've more likely given up. I promise I won't let that happen to this fic. I will try very hard to come back to it, til the end. Thank you for reading.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 49: Bed**

Alec was oddly quiet. He was propped up against a collection of pillows, legs drawn up, one arm draped across his knees as he watched what the others were doing in the room.

Considering the amount of blood he'd lost in the past hour - and the fact that he shouldn't have survived it, would not have lived through it without the fast intervention of his warlock boyfriend, it was surreal that he was conscious and aware. His eyes were bloodshot at the edges, the irises paler than normal. His lips had regained some color, and any visual reminders of the blood had been wiped clean. Still, there was the ragged scar along the edge of his throat, running down to the slope of his shoulder - the only apparent reminder of the demon attack. It was another defect marking a gruesome memory to add to the ongoing collection of scars and faded marks.

Alec calmly watched in silence as Magnus leaned over Clary, finally attending to the burn wounds on her face. His long fingers passed over the broken skin, his focused healing magic casting blue shadows across the panes of her face. Clary stared at the opposite wall, shivering occasionally as the currents of healing energy flowed through her small body. Jace held her hand, though it wasn't necessary. The healing didn't hurt. The whole idea was to remove the pain, and it was working fast, the raw wounds disappearing, her pale skin healing over. Alec seemed to watch the process with mild interest.

Simon and Isabelle had left the room not long after Alec had come to. Simon proposed getting some fresh air, and Isabelle wanted to take a walk around the Institute, to make sure they didn't have any more surprise guests waiting to drop in. Of course, the vampire decided to join her, meaning to get her back while she explored the rooms and hallways before they moved outside to check the perimeter. Of course, Isabelle had objected initially, but decided arguing was a waste of time. Her faithful vampire-dog left the room with her.

Given the large area they had to cover, it wasn't really a concern that they hadn't returned yet. No news, in this case, was good news.

"How does it feel?" Magnus asked wearily, straightening up again.

"It's fine now," Clary said, tentatively reaching up to touch her cheek, feeling the unbroken skin. "Thanks."

"Shadowhunters worst fear: having their face messed up. Anything else is fair game," Magnus mused.

Jace rolled his eyes, but that wasn't a denial. His pretty face, minus some light scarring, could attest to that.

Clary smiled a little, getting up. "I just didn't see it coming. Next time I'll try get out of the way."

"Or you could start throwing in some face shields, with the armor."

"That's not necessary," Jace replied. "Don't need added bulk when we've got you."

"Don't get so complacent. Next time I might charge," Magnus replied, moving to sit down on the corner of Alec's bed, looking tired. It had been a rough night for all of them. But could they really relax, knowing that the Institute still wasn't safe? That they might be torn from their beds at any moment to fend off another wave of hellish creatures?

Magnus had already considered that. He knew, unfortunately, that his night's work wasn't done. Not yet.

He turned to glance at Alec, reaching out to place a hand against his calf. "I've got to seal this place up so we can all get some sleep. I'll be right back, OK?"

Alec nodded distractedly, letting Magnus know he was fine and it was OK to go. But the warlock lingered.

"Alec?"

"What?" Alec replied softly, his face blank.

Magnus continued to study the shadowhunter's face, finally shaking his head. "We'll talk when I get back," he said, then rose from the bed, heading back out into the hall.

**B - B**

The knock came softly. Alec answered it, inviting the warlock inside.

Magnus pushed at the door, opening it. There was an unusual draft in the room, coming from the broken window. The curtains had been slashed from the forced entry, and there was an unpleasant stench in the air that he immediately recognized as a trace of demon. But it was an old smell. Obviously they had merely been passing through, rushing towards the action in the hallway. The bed hadn't been disturbed, only the door broken and the window shattered.

Alec sat in the center of the bed, legs drawn up, hair damp, freshly washed.

He glanced up as Magnus entered the room, nudging the door shut behind him with his boot.

"It's all done," Magnus related, meaning that the Institute was now secure again from unwelcome invasion. It wasn't quite the same as holy ground. That would take a proper priest. For the moment, magic bound the old church. He rather enjoyed the irony.

"Good," Alec replied, tracing a random pattern in the sheet beneath him.

"Are you all right?" Magnus asked, frowning as he approached.

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" Magnus persisted. Alec's detachment hadn't gone unnoticed. He was trying to give the shadowhunter the time to overcome the shock or the fatigue or whatever it was that kept him so uncomfortably quiet and withdrawn, but he couldn't help it. He wanted his boyfriend back, wanted him in some other way than just sitting there like a mute attractive doll, sharing the room with him.

"Yes," Alec answered, his tone vacant. There was no expression in it whatsoever. Magnus sat down on the bed facing Alec, and reached out to still his hand in case that was distracting him.

"Talk to me."

"We are talking."

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"I almost died on the floor in a pool of my own blood," Alec pointed out, the only thing more disturbing than that statement being the empty way in which he said it, pale eyes glancing up at Magnus as he spoke. "Again," he added, brows lifting slightly. "You brought me back to life. Again. I appreciate the effort, and I thank you for saving me, but it's exhausting, coming back from that."

Magnus paused, brows drawn. Alec continued.

"We're not supposed to die and come back," Alec said, this time subtle color infusing his cheeks. His voice seemed a little more animated now. "Do you know how many times I've done that? Even before I met you, before I had a warlock on hand to heal me every time I get hurt, Jace and Isabelle have drawn so many iratzes on me. They're all over my body."

Magnus knew this to be the case, had seen and recognized the faded marks on Alec's arms, his back, his chest, even his legs. He knew what it meant, and yet it did paint a harsh picture. He hadn't really considered the fact that it meant Alec had been brutally wounded at least that many times, that the mark of the Angel had healed him before Magnus ever had the chance to touch him.

"I guess...I'm just tired," Alec finished, resting his head in his hands, fingers smoothing back through his hair as he ducked his chin.

"You've every right to be tired. You've been through a lot."

"Yes. I have," Alec answered, that vacant tone returned.

Magnus frowned, disliking the sound. He scooted closer, reaching out. Alec didn't resist as he felt Magnus's long arms encircle him, moving him. A few seconds passed in the careful transference until Alec's face was against Magnus's shoulder, hands fallen somewhere between them, Magnus's hand sliding reassuringly through Alec's hair, while the other hand rested against his back.

"I love you," Magnus whispered against the top of his head.

Alec closed his eyes, moisture prickling beneath his lashes. The shadowhunter trembled beneath Magnus's soothing hands. Magnus continued to caress his back, to play with Alec's unruly hair, feeling some of the tension leave Alec's body.

Alec turned his cheek and pressed his lips to Magnus's neck. Magnus smiled against Alec's hair, easing back after a moment.

"Do you want to lie down?"

"Only if you come with me," Alec replied, staring up into Magnus's eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Magnus said, his hand cupping Alec's cool cheek.

"OK."

Magnus guided Alec back against the bed. His dark shirt was carefully lifted and removed, tossed aside. Alec helped Magnus out of his soiled shirt as well, letting the warlock arch away in order to push the shirt over his head, but then he was reaching for him again.

They kissed to the sounds of traffic coming from the street below, the wind rushing through the broken window catching on Magnus's glittering hair, attempting to make a ruin of it. But Alec's fingers were doing a better job of it, snarling around the soft spikes, gently pulling.

Alec moaned when Magnus broke from his mouth, trailing hot kisses down the his chin, kissing the tender skin at the base of his throat, teasing at the soft skin that marked the recently healed wound. Alec let his head fall back against the pillow, pinching his lower lip between his teeth.

The dark head of the warlock continued to move down Alec's chest, eliciting soft sounds of pleasure from the no longer dazed shadowhunter.


	50. Belong

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters from The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around with them. Also, there may be some mature material. This fic is still rated T, and I'm fighting to keep that rating. If you're looking for something naughtier, check out Magic Moment (or half the chapters in Inspiration).

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait. And I'm sorry there isn't as much action in this one as usual. It's just a little calm before the storm. Feel free to shoot me any ideas for future chapters. I have a general concept of how I want it to happen, and if I'm lucky it'll just come to me when I'm running my treadmill or kicking back after work. But I love other opinions on how you wish it would play out. It's fun.

This chapter is dedicated to my **Some Things Don't Have to End**, a long time reader of mine. Hope you're still reading!

* * *

**Chapter 50: **

Magnus's fingers were playing across the top of Alec's arm, so soft and gentle, it made the old Mark there tingle as if it were active use. Alec resisted the compulsion to shiver, curling his fingers into the sheet beneath him instead.

"Cold?" Magnus asked, feeling him shift. Magnus scooted closer in the impossibly small bed, his slender torso pressed flush against Alec's back now, his left thigh draped across the shadowhunter's beneath the blanket.

It was a perfect piece that Alec never knew he had been missing, someone who could guess what he wanted or needed when Alec wouldn't even admit it to himself. Alec was stubborn, used to deprivation. He was always cold, so it was just something he had learned to suck up. Having a broken window and not enough bedding didn't help the situation. But tonight he had an impossibly warm boyfriend staying over, Magnus's tall, lanky body squeezed into his bed, curling up with him, so close that that exquisite heat absorbed into Alec's naked torso, and the hand sliding down Alec's arm seemed to radiate warmth. This time he did shiver, goose bumps breaking out across his skin.

"Magic?" Alec murmured, wondering if it was just Magnus's crazy body heat or if he was using some kind of spell to help warm Alec up.

"No. It's all me," Magnus replied, kissing the shell of Alec's ear.

"Do you think...maybe tomorrow you can magically repair the window?" Alec asked, lip twitching.

Magnus chuckled against his ear, fingers rubbing the outside of Alec's bent elbow. "I could, but I think the entire place needs an once over, and that's a lot of precious energy I don't have to waste. Won't the Clave just comp your parents for the repairs or something?"

"Maybe not if they knew Clary started all this."

"But she didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Start it."

Alec rolled over abruptly, frowning up at Magnus. His eyebrows drew together, as if to say: _don't be ridiculous. We've already been over this_.

"We both know the real cause, and he's not going to go away just because we've survived another round of the game."

Alec's face was still drawn, but he eventually nodded a little.

"What are we going to do?" Alec finally asked, hand splayed against the rumpled sheet between them, picking at the dark cotton.

"I don't know. Isn't Jace usually team captain?"

"He likes to pretend," Alec replied, attempting to smile.

"Well, maybe you need to have another Nephilim Pow Wow then, and discuss your next move."

Alec sighed, trying to roll back over onto his back without falling off the edge of the bed. "Yes. But not tonight. It's late."

"Or early, depending on how you want to look at it."

"Right," Alec replied, stifling a yawn. But Magnus could see the tension in his jaw as his body tried to go for it and Alec clamped down on the urge.

"Darling?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

"Do you?"

"Eventually, I guess we should."

"But not now?"

"Doesn't have to be now..."

"Then what--" Alec began, turning his cheek. But then he noticed the look in Magnus's eyes, the curve of his mouth and Alec left the sentence unfinished, face warming.

Magnus leaned in closer, hot breath tickling Alec's face. Before their mouths met, Alec whispered between them. "Fine. But you need to keep it down. The window's broken."

Magnus growled, biting Alec's lower lip. "If I wasn't feeling so lazy, I'd repair your window right now just for that."

"Then you'll have to use your indoor voice," Alec retorted, refusing to back down. His smile was taunting.

Magnus kissed him, hard, on the mouth, until it was Alec in danger of being overheard.

**B - B**

"Alec?"

"Hm?"

"Did you mean what you said before? About being tired?"

Alec sighed, running a weary hand back through his tangled hair. "Yes, I'm tired. It's almost three in the morning and you won't go sleep."

Magnus grinned, pinching Alec's arm. Alec shot him a look of warning. _You really want to play that game? Instigate a fight with a cranky shadowhunter?_

"Cute. No, I was talking about before, when you said that you're tired of constantly being healed, being brought back. Is that true?"

Alec's eyes were open now, staring at the opposite wall. He was quiet for so long that Magnus touched his arm again, this time just a gentle nudge.

"Yes, it's true," Alec replied, lowering his dark lashes. The sounds of the traffic filled the silence of his pause. But eventually Alec swallowed, glancing sidelong at Magnus over one shoulder. "I guess you don't know what it's like."

"Pfft. I'm immortal. I think I understand."

"No, you don't. You've got forever, and you're rarely in danger of dying."

"Well, the odds have changed since I started seeing you."

Alec snorted through his nose, glancing away again. Before the subject was dropped, Magnus continued. "Tell me how it's different."

"It just is."

"That's a terrible answer."

Alec shrugged, not feeling the need to elaborate.

"Does it hurt after I heal you?"

"Not really. It aches a little bit sometimes. My shoulder aches."

"But it's bearable."

"Yes."

"And you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Probably."

"It's just disorienting when you first wake up."

"It's hell."

"Is it scary?"

"It's confusing."

"Do you... do you hate me for healing you?"

Alec sucked in a sharp breath at the thought, turning back. "I don't hate you, Magnus."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I am hurting you, in a way, though."

"No, you're helping me. I know that."

"But is it really what you want?"

"For now."

Magnus's brows raised, his face oddly somber.

Alec considered for a few seconds before answering. "I'd go through that hell every time, as long as I can wake up to you."

Magnus smiled, wanting to tease him about being a hopeless romantic. Instead, the warlock said: "That's hot, coming from you."

Alec smiled a little, touching his fingertips to Magnus's face.

"Then I'll fight to bring you back, every time," Magnus replied, kissing those wandering fingers.

"I know," Alec replied, lowering his hand.


	51. Bath

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters; they belong to Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments. But please let me borrow them a little longer?

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait, again. Sometimes I'm just too busy and too distracted (or just too lazy) to update. Sometimes, especially with this fic, my creative well has just run dry. I wait in the hope of filling it up again, or as now, I wait so long that I decide I'm going to have to force something out, whether the creative juices are flowing or not. I hope it's not complete garbage - and I apologize in advance! I hear your requests to continue, and I do thank you for continued reviews on the story, and I sincerely apologize for keeping you in suspense so long.

* * *

**Chapter 51**: Bath

Alec's eyes snapped open.

The sound of voices from the hallway were loud and angry. They must have woken him, light, restless sleeper that he was. He could hear the raising pitch of an argument, the violence of ann escalating disagreement.

Springing out from beneath the thin blanket, Alec came to his feet, shivering, but alert. The wind roared through the broken window, unsettling the hair against his neck. His skin tingled with alarm.

Crossing the room quickly, navigating through the shadows, Alec reached for the doorknob, reminded that the door hinges had been broken the night before. Still, he threw what remained of the door back against the frame, launching himself out into the dark hallway.

The reek of demon and the pungent, lingering smell of the fire hit him in a choking wave. Alec brought one bare hand up as if to ward off the stale, polluted air, but it served a dual purpose, blocking the bright light from his eyes.

What light?

Peering through his pale fingers, Alec recognized the orange-red glow of fire.

Lowering his hand immediately, Alec realized that down the hall, the walls and the carpeted floor and even the high ceiling were aflame again. And in the middle of the blaze, red and blue sparks flew.

_Magnus! _Alec wordlessly cried, recognizing the powerful blue flame.

He ran towards the heat and the burning light, his bare feet scraping against the floor as he propelled himself forward, desperately trying to focus on the sounds of shouting, trying to discern who was with him, who was fighting against the warlock.

"Magnus!" Alec called, his hand going up again as he neared the fire.

Alec could hear nothing but the flames crackling, the wood splintering, the edges of carpet peeling back as it was devoured by the extreme heat. He was virtually blind now as he edged perilously closer.

"Magnus," Alec choked, squinting through heavy lids, lowering his hand to cup his mouth, trying to keep his lungs clear as long as possible.

Then he felt the first wave of heat flashing across his arm, burning through bare skin on contact, and Alec screamed.

"Alec!"

Alec's eyes flew open. Magnus was gripping his arm, urgent fingers digging into the skin, apparently trying his best to shake his boyfriend awake.

Taking a deep breath in, Alec released it with a shuddering sense of relief.

Magnus was all right, and he wasn't burning.

The window was still broken, the room was uncomfortably cold, but they were together.

"You were having a nightmare," Magnus murmured, pointing out the obvious.

Alec nodded, forcing one hand back through his hair, pulling the sticky strands away from his face. Strange, that he had been sweating. He was rarely that warm when he slept. Maybe he should attribute it to sharing a bed with Magnus, having to sleep close together in such a small space. Magnus ran unnaturally hot on the norm, and he must have imparted some of his extraordinary body heat to Alec throughout the night.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"There was a fire," Alec said after a moment, dampening his lower lip and swallowing, his throat dry.

"There was a fire last night," Magnus replied, master of the obvious this morning.

"Yes, I know that," Alec snapped, sitting up wearily. What time was it?

Magnus smiled a little, not terribly put off by Alec being short with him. "You look really cute, grumpy and disheveled, first thing in the morning."

Alec squinted over at him. He hoped it looked more like a glare. But by the way Magnus continued to smile, it probably wasn't effective.

"What time is it?" Alec asked, pushing the irritating hair back out of his eyes as it tried to creep forward.

"Seven fifteen," Magnus replied without having to look away, as if he had been awake long enough to check out a clock or glance at his cell. Alec's brow lifted.

"And you're conscious?" he asked, surprised that Magnus, of the two, would be the first one awake.

"Well, I woke up when you started digging your nails into my back. I didn't mind at first, but when I realized it was because you were having a bad dream, and _not _because you were in the mood, I tried not to enjoy it. Then when you started screaming my name, I was concerned.

"Of course, if you did that in a different set of circumstances, I wouldn't have minded-"

"Magnus," Alec groaned, lifting his hand to rub his temple, while the other was held out in the hope of silencing the warlock. "It's too early." Alec hoped the hand in front of his face partially considered the heat the rising blush from Magnus's view.

"That's surreal, coming from you."

"Well, I guess it's a day for surprises," Alec retorted, trying to sound casual.

Magnus was quiet for a few moments, then his gentle fingertips walked along Alec's left arm, trying to reassure him.

"Have you already had coffee?" Alec muttered, suspecting that might be the reason for Magnus's surplus of energy.

"Not yet. Do you want some?"

Alec deliberated. He knew Magnus could procure two cups in a snap, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for coffee yet. Maybe a warm shower and some warm clothes, and then a warm, pick-me-up beverage to make his wake-up complete.

"In a little bit," Alec finally answered, glancing up.

Magnus's hair was soft and loose against his face this morning. His cheeks were lightly flushed. Alec's glance strayed to the warlock's mouth, not intending to let his mind stray there. But since Magnus's mind was already there, it shouldn't have surprised him that the warlock was receptive to the attention, and leaned in to kiss him.

There was a slight objection from Alec, who moved to draw back. But there really was nowhere to go on the narrow bed. Fortunately, Magnus's hand slid to his lower back, preventing an embarrassing fall, and after a moment, he applied a little pressure, trying to coax Alec closer again.

After he got over being squeamish about morning breath and kissing under the full light of the day, Alec started to return the kiss, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Magnus's neck.

The warlock hummed in pleasure, nudging Alec's lower lip. The kiss had ended, but Alec was reluctant to withdraw from the warmth of Magnus's body. It was far more effective insulation than the blanket at his waist.

"I was trying to find you in the fire," Alec whispered, glancing up at the blur of Magnus's face.

"And did you?"

Alec shook his head, fingertips absently playing with the ends of Magnus's dark hair. He didn't mention the pain he experienced as he started to burn.

"Well, I'm not surprised."

"What?"

"Not that you couldn't find me. I meant about the fire. I use enough hair product sometimes to start a forest fire."

"OK, not something to joke about right now, while the dream is still fresh," Alec said, releasing the warlock.

Magnus let him pull away, but before Alec could leave the bed, Magnus had reclaimed his hand, leaving a kiss against the palm.

"Come. I'll make it up to you."

"I'm not ready for coffee," Alec replied.

"That's not what I had in mind," Magnus replied, ominous.

Alec started to look away as Magnus rose from the bed. He was expecting the sheet to pull away from the tan skin, and there to be nothing all the way down but bare warlock - But then he caught the flash of black material, and he was surprised to find Magnus had changed into a pair of boxers. They were small and tight and very shiny, but still, a welcome layer that hung low on his hips and kept him for the most part covered as Magnus headed into Alec's bathroom, starting the hot water.

Well, that had been the first item on his agenda. Alec couldn't deny that it was welcome, when the steam from the shower began to trickle into the bedroom, warming Alec's face.

But he didn't expect to see the black material clearly hit the floor through the steam. Eyes gone wide, Alec heard the shower curtain rattle as Magnus stepped into the shower himself, his silhouette still visible through the thin material of the curtain.

This was one line they had not crossed, and if not for that single word of invitation, Alec would have thoroughly talked himself out of it, convinced that Magnus intended to shower alone from the beginning, and he wasn't asking Alec to get out of bed and join him.

But that one word clearly proved that Magnus wanted him to join, was perhaps even daring the shadowhunter to conquer his fear and reservations, and go for it.

It wasn't like Alec to back down from his fears, especially when this had nothing to do with the threat of death, a vicious demon, or even anything remotely painful.

His boyfriend wanted him to join him in a shower. Spelled out like that, it didn't sound all that frightening. It was only the part about there being no clothing between them that gave Alec pause.

That was a fairly significant detail.

_But you walked into the fire to find him. _

All he had to do now was remove his pants, cross the room, pull the curtain aside and step into a steaming shower.

As Alec remained alone in the unmade bed, the breeze coming through the broken window making gooseflesh break out across his arms, he heard the scrape of the metal rings against the bar and the crinkle of the shower curtain.

Then Magnus's voice, calling over the water.

"Alec?"


	52. Breathe

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters; they belong to Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments.

**A/N: **I'm still trying to make up for the long wait. Last night when I finished chapter 51, I got a visual for this chapter, but it really was too late to put out anything worth reading. So, going to give it a go now.

This chapter is dedicated to both Charlotte -LOVE- who I do remember and LOVE and MagnusSpark, whose reviews I love to read. You've bone been following my fics for a while, and I thought you deserved a shout-out. Thank you for staying with me.

And rachelalexandra, you are one tough broad. I love your honesty. Yes, call me out when I get slack!

Oh, and PS: thank you, Katara-alchemist. I really appreciate the offer.

* * *

**Chapter 52: Breathe  
**

Isabelle was not amused.

She sat with her arms folded across her chest, the thin material of her black tank bunching beneath the pressure of her forearms as she coolly regarded the others. Her skin was pale beneath the black of her Marks, the light in the room absorbed into her skin, making it shine.

Both Clary and Jace, and Magnus and Alec had wet, dripping hair and flushed faces. There was no doubt they had recently showered. That would explain the lack of hot water when Isabelle tried to run her hands under the spray, to test the temp for her own shower. It was freezing. That had already put the shadowhunter in a foul mood. She desperately wanted to wash her hair and get last night's grime off her skin. She'd been too exhausted to shower last night, falling asleep before she remembered hitting the sheets.

If she hadn't been so tired, Isabelle wouldn't have been able to stand tainting her bedspread with the reek of demon and smoke. But at the time, a few minutes under the water hadn't been worth the delay.

But it wasn't just the theft of hot water that was bothering Isabelle. Add to the list, that it was fairly obvious that both couples had showered _together_. The similar state of dampness to their hair was certainly a clue, but also how awkward Alec sat beside Magnus, avoiding the warlock's draping arm. Clary also seemed hyper-aware of Jace as he shifted restlessly, uncomfortable at the end of the old couch.

There was a vacant space beside Isabelle which she couldn't overlook. Likewise, she couldn't ignore her own greasy hair, which had been haphazardly pulled back in a hasty twist. Oh, she was angry. She had put extra effort into burning the toast which no one intended to eat anyway, and she hadn't been able to find any coffee grounds.

A girl without her shower _and _her coffee, that was a lethal combination.

"Are we going to just shoot each other angst-filled looks, or was there a point to this meeting?" Magnus prompted, lamenting the lack of a hair dryer - although perhaps he should be grateful that the plumbing was still functioning, after last night.

"I don't particularly mind being looked at," Jace replied, lip twitching.

"Great. So, we rushed our showers in order to fawn over you?"

"At least you had a shower," Isabelle retorted, just waiting for the chance to inject her venom.

"We need to petition the Clave for repairs," Alec pointed out, trying to guide the conversation away from danger. His fingers anxiously plucked at the material over the arm rest, the thread popping.

"We need to contact your parents," Jace disagreed.

"There's no reason we can't do both," Alec decided. It sounded reasonable. He would even be willing to place the call to his parents, and send the fire message to the Clave - it was a lot more formal and the proper course of action. There was no voice mail system available, though they might receive a response by way of the Institute's phone.

Both tasks needed to be done. They were still the de facto caretakers of the Institute, and the damage was significant. The building couldn't properly serve its purpose as a safe haven or even a suitable lodging for shadowhunters when most of the windows were shattered, the ceiling caved in, not to mention the damage caused by the fire. There was also the matter of sanctifying the grounds. Magnus's spell would serve just as well for now, but ultimately they needed to contact a member of the clergy to seal the deal.

As for their parents, the Lightwoods needed to know about the events of last night. While Alec didn't necessarily wish them back in the midst of so much turmoil and the looming threat of a vindictive warlock, he could just imagine the parental wrath that would come down on them if Robert and Maryse returned without having received a proper warning. They might come back all the sooner. That was certainly their choice.

If Daniel Wyrick was involved in the attack, then that must mean his parents were not progressing with their pursuit of the criminal. Magnus's visit, when the warlock's projection had stopped by his flat, was the closest they had come - and that wasn't saying much. Isabelle was the last to encounter the warlock, with devastating results. Their protection runes were only effective against magical attacks, and while they might have kept the shadowhunters safe from Wyrick himself throwing malicious energy at them in their sleep, they were nothing against a horde of demons laying siege to the Institute. Maybe they should have foreseen something like that, knowing that it wouldn't be so easy. Why would they possibly be able to take a breath and relax? That wasn't in the job description.

As Alec brooded, Magnus was staring intently at his face. He could just see the warlock's bright eyes caressing his profile. It was that stare that drew Alec from his abstraction and the warmth crept into his face, though he refused to turn and look back at Magnus.

Alec could just make out the curve of Magnus's mouth, amused by Alec's reaction. The warlock's hand brushed the edge of his thigh, reminding him of the way his fingers has been minutes before, warm and tickling, sliding across soapy water and pale skin.

Alec shuddered, forcing himself into the present. He sat up straighter. He ignored Magnus entirely, unwilling to be distracted by what they had done in private. It was something he was going to have to face, but not right this moment.

Isabelle was standing, shaking out her hair. "I'm going to take a shower," she announced, assuming the hot water had been replaced.

"We need to talk," Alec objected, glancing up at his sister with a frown.

"I'm not going to talk until my hair is clean and I've exfoliated several layers of skin."

"And how long is that going to take?" Jace asked, fingers idly playing with the wet ends of Clary's hair. The red curls wrapped around his fingers, Clary's face warming to match.

"I don't know. If I know you're waiting, I'll be sure to take my time and enjoy it," Isabelle replied, flicking her loose hair back behind her shoulder.

"Izz-" Alec began, getting up.

"Not negotiating," Isabelle called as she headed out of the room. "We can talk shop once I'm clean."

After her light footfalls had started fading down the hall, Alec turned first to Magnus in exasperation, then he glared over at Jace.

"What?" The blond asked, brows raised. "You think that was my fault?"

"Well, it certainly didn't help."

Jace shrugged. "She's just jealous."

"If I'd known that a ten-minute shower would have drained all the hot water in the building, I would have cut mine by half."

"It was actually more like twenty," Magnus shared.

Alec tried not to turn beat red, while chewing the inside of his cheek. He was kind of trapped between a rock and a hard place, being called out in front of Jace by his boyfriend and reminded yet again by Magnus of the twenty minutes they had spent in the same shower, the same twenty minutes he was trying to desperately to repress.

Alec was thoroughly embarrassed.

"When did Simon leave?" Clary asked, for once a welcome interruption.

"Sometime in the middle of the night, I assume," Magnus replied. They had certainly been awake most of the night, though Alec had hardly given the vampire's whereabouts a second thought.

"Would he be able to come back when he wants?"

"For now. The wards just hold demons at bay. Downworlders still have access, although it's not the most comfortable place to hang out."

"You look pretty cozy," Jace taunted, white teeth flashing as he smiled.

"Oh, I am," Magnus drawled, eyes intense.

"OK," Alec said, coming to his feet. "I'm going to call mom."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Magnus offered, reaching out to touch Alec's arm.

Alec recoiled without realizing it. "I can handle it," he replied, giving Magnus a strange look. Why would he need the warlock to come with him? To hold his hand while he broke the news to his mother?

Something shifted behind Magnus's eyes, but the warlock casually shrugged. "I could give her a more detailed explanation of what happened last night."

"If she asks for it, then I'll come get you," Alec said, glancing away. He kind of needed some distance from Magnus right now. It just wasn't 100% comfortable sitting side-by-side with the warlock, even with clothes on. Having clothes on now and some physical distance between them, still wouldn't get the images out of his head. Magnus seemed fine with it; he even looked like he was gloating. But Alec had never done anything like...that before, and he needed time and space to process. He needed to think.

Talking to Maryse Lightwood seemed like a fine excuse to leave the room. After all, who can really think about being intimate with their boyfriend while relaying bad news to their mother?

As conflicted as he was about Magnus, at least Alec could handle this. It was just a relaying of facts, and then he would await Maryse's counsel. She would know what to do. She might even advise him about the repairs, or intercede on his behalf, since it was technically her responsibility - even though they were always filling in.

Running a hand back through his hair, Alec left the room without a backward glance, his mind already stretching ahead to the conversation with his mother, unable to acknowledge the eyes following his back as he walked away.


	53. Bar

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters; they belong to Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments.

**A/N: **All right. I can only hold out for so long before the number of reviews poking me to update make me feel guilty and slack and here I am, attempting to try to write another chapter. I have no idea where this is going to go. I'm trying to canon review the series both for this story and the Institute, so I am working; I'm just not putting out. But you'll see. And you'll thank me for doing my homework.

I'm going to dedicate this chapter to **Some Things Don't Have to End** and her TWIN (wtf) **lettheobsessionbegin**. Keep reading and reviewing, and you too may have your day right up here in bold print.

* * *

**Chapter 53: Bar  
**

"Mom. It's Alec," he breathed after a pause, realizing it was an awkward beginning. But the only thing more unnerving than speaking to Maryse Lightwood was trying to leave an intelligent message on her voicemail, which - Alec belatedly remembered, had a time limit. He had to pull it together and finish this.

"There was a demon attack last night." There was no sugar-coating the news with shadowhunters. The other way around, his mother wouldn't have done it for him, so Alec tried to give it to her straight. "Everyone is all right. Magnus was present to heal the wounded. It's the damage to the Institute that is of greater concern." Was it the right time to mention they would also require a priest to consecrate the grounds? No, that would be too complicated to go into in less than thirty seconds.

"There is structural damage to the ceiling. Part of the roof caved in. Most of the windows in the residential wing are shattered and a number of the doors. There was a fire in the hallway, but it's been contained. I'll call today to get permission for repairs and make the proper arrangements." Alec sounded more confident as the message wore on, and he was relieved. Details were easy to focus on - it was talking about anything remotely personal that usually gave him trouble, especially with his mother. But talking business was fine. That was how they related best.

Alec paused for a moment, trying to mentally edit and decide what else he should add. Worrying on the permanent imprints in his lower lip, Alec concluded: "I hope you are well. We haven't heard from you, and..." _I worry_, Alec silently added, but it was too embarrassing to admit that aloud, so he stopped short. "Please let me know if you have any news on Wyrick, and I will do the same. Goodbye, mother."

The cell phone beeped as he ended the call, then lowered the phone to the bed. Almost as soon as he had, the door rattled once, followed by a very fluent curse.

"Not this again," Magnus hissed from the hallway.

Alec sighed, glancing away from the door that stood precariously between them. Of course, the hinges and the lock were broken from the night before, but Alec remembered the rune he had previously used to keep the warlock out. Alec wanted some privacy while he called his mother, which was kind of hard to ensure when the door was gaping open, so he opted to seal the door and ensure no one passing in the hallway was going to bother him.

And he would be lying if he said it had nothing to do with wanting to avoid Magnus for other reasons, as well. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"I have to make another call," Alec said, frowning at the opposite wall.

"Are you planning on letting me in at all today or should I see myself back home to Brooklyn?"

"Suit yourself," Alec answered in annoyance. He heard something thud against the door and he waited for the sound of the warlock's retreating footfalls, heading back down the hall. Alec wasn't sure he could make them out, but it didn't matter. Magnus wasn't coming in. So Alec rose from the bed. He needed a piece of paper and his stele. There was no reaching the Clave by conventional means, not for this.

A fire message would suit, though Alec wasn't used to being the one standing in as liaison. Hodge or his parents had better handwriting, not to mention they related better to the older shadowhunters of the previous generations.

_But you're an adult now. They're your peers_, Alec reminded himself.

Tapping the end of the stele against his abused lower lip, Alec thought about the phrasing of this letter for a minute. Of course, with the Clave he could spare no detail. He would have to make mention of Daniel Wyrick as the suspected cause for all the trouble, the deconsecration of the Institute, the summoning of the demons - doubtless by the warlock himself, simply to cause chaos and suffering. He might as well add the news of Isabelle's attack to stress the scope of the threat the Downworlder posed. He had already personally made an attempt on the lives of four shadowhunters. Indirectly, he had tried to harm more than that, in launching the attack on the Institute. If they did not come out to meet him, obviously Wyrick was sending a dangerous message: he was coming for them, and he wasn't doing anything by half.

How one man could harbor so much hate, Alec couldn't fully understand. He could never fully grasp Valentine's motivations or his willingness to exterminate entire races. He could barely understand why his parents felt compelled to back him once.

That one warlock would stand against shadowhunters over the death of a loved one seemed suicide. Maybe there was a deeper dislike of the Nephilim.

Whatever the case, he was a formidable opponent and a definite problem. It would take more than their small group to see it through to the end, and Alec fervently hoped there would be no more unintentional accidents or unforeseen problems.

It was as he was just about to lower the stele to the paper, that it dawned on Alec that Magnus was probably heading back to Brooklyn right now, alone.

He may be a very powerful warlock - the High Warlock of Brooklyn, in fact, but Alec had just casually told him to go away, alone, like he wasn't in danger. Point in fact, Alec hadn't even had time to _think_ of the danger, and now that he realized the full scope of what he had done, Alec felt sick.

His dream from last night hit him with a terrible sense of foreboding.

Dropping the stele, the shadowhunter launched himself to his feet and rushed for the broken door. The energy crackled, but the ward was broken as soon as he forcibly opened the door himself, bursting out into the hall-

-and directly into the path of his boyfriend, his chest colliding with another, sending them both stumbling a few steps towards the opposite wall.

"You didn't have to make a phone call," Magnus replied after a moment, over the collision.

"What?" Alec gasped, straightening up. He was too relieved that Magnus had stayed to be angry. But he couldn't say the same for Magnus; Magnus stiffly stared back at Alec, looking down at him from the elegant line of his glittery nose.

"I didn't hear your voice through the door. So you've kept me waiting out here for nothing."

"No," Alec objected, running an agitated hand back through his hair. "I was actually writing a fire message to the Clave."

"Ah. Then why lie to me?"

"I don't know, Magnus," Alec said in exasperation. "It took less time to say 'I have to make a phone call' than to say, 'please leave me alone for a few minutes to think of a way to phrase this fire message?' "

"And yet it took you less than ten seconds just now," Magnus replied, not letting up.

Alec was angry now. He still hadn't finished what he set out to do, which only proved his point - _this _was exactly why Alec had holed himself off in his room, preventing any interruptions.

"I thought you were leaving," Alec huffed, though his chest throbbed at the idea.

"Not before we got a chance to talk," Magnus said, crossing his arms over his chest, the soft material of his shirt bunching.

"Fine. But I have to do this first," Alec said, gesturing impatiently back towards the open, ruined door.

"Very well," Magnus conceded. But as Alec turned away to head back into his room, Magnus followed him through the doorway, without a locking rune to stop him. Alec was startled when the door slammed shut behind them both. He turned just as Magnus was lowering his wrist, sealing the door again with his own magic.

"Write your note," the warlock advised. "I'll be right here."

Alec's shoulders went up, tense all over again.

Obviously, there was no getting out of it. Damnit.

Magnus's intense stare followed him as he returned to the blank piece of paper, which did not make it any easier to think as he reached for his stele. Alec shot a sidelong glare at the warlock, then tried very hard to mentally shut him out as he started to compose the first line.

After the first paragraph, he'd almost forgotten Magnus was still standing there. Almost.

But inevitably the letter had to come to an end, and Alec folded it up and sent it on its way.

There was a note of finality as the paper burnt and the deed was done. It meant he would have to face Magnus after all, a task even more daunting than informing the Clave.

Slowly, very slowly, Alec turned around to face the warlock. It didn't help that from where Magnus stood, the bathroom door was open several feet behind him. Alec couldn't help looking at it. The open door brought to mind the memories of the time they'd spent in that cramped room, and Alec's face heated up like the steam of the shower was still present, staining his cheeks.

It was very hard to continue looking up at Magnus, when the compulsion to look away, or better yet, back up to the broken window and make a desperate leap, was very strong. The cooler breeze against Alec's back was refreshing. At least he had some relief, however small - perhaps the only positive thing to come out of the destruction.


	54. Barely

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters; they belong to Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments.

**A/N: **Tried an old trick, listening to "Gravity" and "Hometown Glory" on repeat until the chapter was finished. It helps. It's strange. Sorry there's more introspection than action. That does happen sometimes. Next chapter, maybe.

This one is dedicated to all of you. Thank you for still reading this fluffy mess.

* * *

**Chapter 54: Barely  
**

Alec could have retold time by his frenzied heartbeat. The erratic thudding got louder the longer the silence dragged on. Not a comforting thought, that his excited pulse was probably the loudest thing in the room, with the exception of the morning traffic coming through the open window. If Alec was lucky, all that would drown out the proof of his nervous energy. Alec squeezed one hand together at his side, trying to focus his stress on one fist as his eyes continued to stare at Magnus's face. Magnus's own unnatural eyes were fixated right back on him. If Alec wasn't remaining still by sheer determination, he might have wondered if the warlock was using some kind of spell to keep him there, in spite of the sudden impulse to run.

Magnus never looked more half-human than when he was angry. His eyes seemed even brighter, the feline pupils hard to miss when his eyes were slightly narrowed, his irritation plain. He had a way of looking down at Alec from his nose which was a tactic his mother sometimes used to intimidate, but coming from a very tall warlock, well, it was a little more scary and a lot more serious. Why had he worried so long over parental disapproval, when an upset Magnus Bane was by far more terrifying to behold, especially alone together in a locked room?

Alec took a fortifying breath, then unclenched his hand, preparing to defend himself. "You're not being fair."

"Really? I could say the same of you," Magnus countered, no apparent change in his expression.

"Magnus..." Alec said, finally glancing away. If there was some way of pacifying the warlock simply by speaking his name, that would be so much easier.

"Alec." Magnus was not appeased, one dark brow raised, waiting.

What did he want? What did he really expect? Alec was shy, had always been shy, at least when it came down to relationships. Hell, he had never had a proper relationship before Magnus, and even then, it had taken them weeks to progress beyond the point of secret meetings and stolen kisses and petting over clothes, with his family none the wiser. Coming out to his mother and father, to Jace and Isabelle and essentially, the entire shadowhunter community in Alicante had been a huge step. In that span of time, he had admitted to Magnus and himself that he was in love, that there was someone outside of his own family that he was fiercely protective of and didn't want to live without. Partnering him in that battle had just cemented that bond.

Days after that, Magnus had challenged him to take it a step further, to start shedding clothes and be with him an entirely new way. It was scary. Alec hesitated. And it was too much for Magnus to expect that he wouldn't be shy about it. Alec felt more justified than ever. The weeks that passed had instilled a measure of trust and some confidence in the shadowhunter, but the plain and simple truth was, he just wasn't ready. He needed time. He'd moved too quickly in the hope of pleasing Magnus and because he thought it was normal and expected to be at that point, but once he'd crossed the line, Alec felt even less sure, even more anxious around Magnus, like he'd bared a part of him he wasn't ready to expose yet. He'd bared _everything, _and that was a lot to take in and reconcile.

When Alec closed his eyes, he could still see Magnus standing there, naked beneath the spray of the water. The image made him shudder and clench his hand into a fist again. It was not a distraction he needed right now, but the mental imagine wouldn't go away. And the memory of his own...nudity was still fresh and unnerving. Those angry eyes that bored into him now had seen all of him only hours before. It wasn't something Alec could undo.

But how could he express it to Magnus? It felt like he was always putting him off and slowing him down. But it had nothing to do with his fear of being found out, or his unwillingness to be close to Magnus. He wanted that connection, and on some level, he recognized his own desire for what it was. But that still didn't mean he was ready to teeter on the edge of shower sex with his boyfriend, or Angel forbid, plunge into the real thing...

Alec's face flamed with color. Maybe it was naive, but he always thought when the time was right, he would know it and his mind would tell him he was as ready as his body. Maybe that was the truth. But if so, while his body might want to rush things, his mind wasn't there yet. Weeks had changed so much in the way of Alec's love life; he had one now. That was a crazy revelation. But he still wasn't anywhere near Magnus's experience, and he had to find some way of making the eight-hundred year-old warlock understand that he was still an inexperienced nineteen year-old who'd just had his first kiss over the summer, who had never undressed in front of anyone outside of family, and he needed a little more time to catch up. He just needed Magnus to be patient, instead of finding fault with Alec's inconsistent behavior. Alec had to concede he must seem like the worst tease. The thought just made his embarrassment that much worse.

"I need time," Alec murmured, uncertain eyes flicking back up to meet Magnus's eyes.

To his surprise, Magnus nodded, brow still raised. "Fortunately, I have that in abundance."

That was it? That seemed almost too easy.

"I don't want you to be mad at me because I'm an idiot," Alec tried, running a hand restlessly through his already messy hair.

"You _are _an idiot. But since you admitted it first, I'll try not to be mad."

Alec lip twitched, testing the waters to see if it was OK to smile and joke now.

"What do you need?" Magnus asked. His voice, no longer irritated, had that compelling purr to it. Alec had difficulty thinking past the sound of Magnus's voice when he did that, much less focus on what he was actually saying.

"What?"

"What do you want?" Magnus clarified. "Some space?"

"I don't want you to go," Alec said, taking an impulsive step forward, misunderstanding what the warlock was saying.

"I'm not going anywhere. For one thing, you need my assistance right now, and I can't imagine my roomy bed is half as comfortable as your luxurious twin."

Alec barked a laugh, glancing at his tiny unmade bed. It was the first time in a while he'd allowed it to stay rumpled like that after leaving it.

"Maybe we can...commandeer a bed from one of the empty rooms and push them together."

"That's very Partridge family. But I like it."

"What?"

"Never mind, darling. Sounds good to me."

"But, as for the rest..." Alec started. Magnus interrupted, holding up his hand.

"I got it. We'll put any new material on pause, at least until after we've sorted out the latest situation. But, as soon as we've brought down the bad guy and there's one last complication behind us, I expect a proper reward for my efforts."

Alec's jaw dropped. He had no idea how to reply to that, assuming he meant... actually, he wasn't even quite sure _what_ Magnus was implying by that, but had a good idea as to the direction of his thoughts.

"I want a new television."

"A new-"

"Yes. A flatscreen. And preferably one of those mounted stands so I can slap it up on the wall and keep the cords out of the way from Chairman Meow. Anything electrical is a special treat."

"Can't you just, I don't know, snap one into existence on your own?"

"Well, I _could,_ but I do try to avoid snagging high dollar items when I could just as easily accept one as payment for services rendered. Would aiding you in the capture of a rogue warlock, not to mention placing a massive protection spell on the Institute not count as one hell of a job well done?"

Alec worried on his lower lip for a moment, muttering: "And the repairs. Can you at least help with the windows?"

Magnus rolled his eyes, looking exasperated. But he puffed once, then waved his hand dismissively. "Fine. A few windows, starting with yours, but only because Manhattan traffic is especially obnoxious at 3AM and I'd like to get some sleep."

"Thank you," Alec replied with apparent relief.

"It better be a quality TV."

"I'm sure we can work something out, if that's really what you want."

"It's a start," Magnus purred, his eyes wicked now. Alec had to glance away, feeling a traitorous tingle in his limbs, his body responding as it always did when Magnus paid special attention to him.

"But you know what I'd really like?" Magnus continued. Alec, hesitant to look up, shoved his hands in his pockets, swallowing.

"What?"

"Breakfast."

"Oh," Alec replied, looking up. "I think we can do that."

"Why don't we just go down the street and grab something?"

"Sure," Alec decided. It wasn't far and they wouldn't be gone long. They couldn't hide inside the Institute forever, nor was it something he wanted to do. He was a demon-hunter, not a mundane. His job meant running into a dangerous fight, not shying away from it and clinging to safety. Besides, if it would make Magnus happy, he'd brave fifteen minutes of exposure. He would carry his stele and a seraph blade, and Magnus was hardly powerless.

"My treat," Alec added, patting down his pockets, making sure he had everything.

"Ohh. I'd offer to pay, if you do that again," Magnus rasped with a glittery wink.

"Do what?" Alec replied too fast, then thought about it and blushed. He shook his head, scowling at the warlock. Magnus laughed, waving wrist. The battered door to Alec's room edged open, allowing them to pass into the hallway, still smelling faintly of smoke and demon residue.

A few doors down, Alec slid out his hand, grasping for Magnus's. Without turning to look at each other, they simply walked hand-in-hand, an odd, but striking pair, Magnus with his glittery flare, and Alec, wild hair and somber clothes, but a new strength to his stride.


	55. Beg

**Between Burroughs**  
by ariviand

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the following characters; they belong to Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments.

* * *

**Chapter 55: Begging  
**

This chapter is coming soon. I am actually working on it. Seriously. Like right now.

BUT I will be frank and explain why it's so hard to get back into writing fanfiction at the moment. See, almost since the time I began posting my virgin works on this site, I had a writing partner. Miyabita - yes, you've probably seen her name around in my dedications pages and she was the co-author to our Dead Man's Party fic as well as my beta for the first few chapters of Call Me. She was essentially the Alec to my Magnus and the inspiration that kept the pairing alive and inadvertantly fed me new ideas that led to many chapters and stories that I shared with you all here.

But she's retired the role and with her, all my inspiration and my love and my muse sort of... well it dwindled and sputtered out. I could only force a few chapters and I wasn't happy with them anymore. In the months that she's been missing from my literary life, my writing has been little to nothing, as you can see. I could have birthed a Malec baby in that time (what a hot child that would be).

So, the reason for this wicked author's note disguised as a chapter is this: I need a new muse/partner/companion, what have you. To be specific, I really really really would love someone with a firm grasp on Alec's character, a love of Malec, and free time on your hands to write with meee! Otherwise, the Malec as you know it from ariviand may be a thing of the past, because I can't continue on alone. I just can't do it.

I've had a few responses already, but I'll continue to shamelessly put myself out there. Please let me know by email or PM, whatever works best. You can even review this not chapter if you want, but I'm going to pull it down as soon as the next update is ready!

Thank you and I apologize for the false alarm!

ariviand


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